


Suit Porn

by for_autumn_i_am



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bath Sex, Bickering, Business, CEO Hux, CEO Kylo Ren, Clothed Sex, Cultural Differences, Dirty Talk, Hux Wears Glasses, Lingerie, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Powerplay, Rimming, Romance, Sex Swing, Sex Toys, Sexting, Sexual Roleplay, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-03-10 04:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 77,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_autumn_i_am/pseuds/for_autumn_i_am
Summary: Armitage Hux has worked tirelessly to become CEO of First Order Corp's UK office, however his counterpart in the States, Kylo Ren, is the most infuriating man with whom to exchange emails. When Hux is called to New York to meet with Ren, he encounters a delicious man in a suit, who wants to do unspeakable things to him. But when Hux walks into his meeting the next morning, he's in for a surprise and the beginning of a relationship that is far more than just business.





	1. Suit Yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Костюмное Порно](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503570) by [iamAnchoress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamAnchoress/pseuds/iamAnchoress)



Hux hated Kylo Ren. He never met him. The man was notorious enough that he didn’t have to. He heard he was prone to throwing horrifying tantrums when a deal didn’t go his way, that his employees lived in mortal dread of him, and that, worse of all, he was supposedly the youngest CEO of First Order Corp, snatching the title from Hux.

Unlike Ren, he worked his ass off to be in his position. They said that all Ren did was cheating his uncle out of his inheritance and presenting himself to Chairman Snoke as the legendary Vader’s rightful heir. His grandfather left behind an empire. At the end of the day, Ren was a privileged prick with whom Hux was forced to compete for Snoke’s attention, but at least he was half a world away.

That is, until Snoke arranged for a personal meeting.

Hux saw no reason why Ren couldn’t drag his punk ass to London. That’s where the real First Order headquarters were; the corporation’s American branch was a tasteless joke at best. He arrived to New York, jet-lagged and miserable, with an FO party to attend and an early morning meeting with that wanker Ren.

He escaped to the balcony, the festivities still at full swing behind him. He was at his third cocktail and four hundredth bootlicker, and he really needed a break. The music was ghastly, some tasteless ‘60s medley, and it followed him to the secluded solitary of the tropical-themed box hanging a hundred stories above Central Park. There was a small pool there, abandoned, covered with a turquoise plastic sheet, an empty bar with a straw roof, and two tall vertical torches which actually seemed to be operating, the flames waving in the soft breeze.

Hux walked to the railing, glanced down, frowned in distaste, and searched his waistcoat for a pack of cigarettes. He treated himself to some duty free Lucky Strikes at the airport, and as he put the tag-end to his lips he realised he neglected to purchase a lighter. Maybe he could go to the torches, light it from them, die a heroic death in the attempt.

He heard the door open. He tried to look casual with his pathetically unlit cigarette, embarrassment burning his cheeks as he glanced at the swirling trees below, red and yellow and orange.

“May I?” his company asked, offering a costume-made zippo. He had outrageously huge hands and a voice with such a deep, rich timbre it made Hux’s stomach tremble. 

“Thank you,” he managed, and leant over the lighter. He made sure to hollow his cheeks and flutter his lashes as he did that. The stranger’s shoes were splendid, brown Kentons, perfectly complimenting his grey suit and long wool coat. So many people got the shoes wrong.

“What brings you here?” Mr. Suit Porn asked, and Hux chanced a glance at his face, illuminated by the glowing flames. He was so handsome it almost pained Hux to look at him.

“Work,” Hux said with a small exhale, smoke curling up from his lips. It did the trick: Mr. Suit Porn looked at them. He was still staring when Hux added, “I can’t exactly travel for leisure.”

Mr. Suit Porn seemed to sober up from his trance, and he pocketed his zippo, noting, “We can’t, can we? That’s the weirdest shit. With all the money we make. And we’re not uh, free to do that.” He frowned, like he disliked what he just said.

“Well,” Hux explained with a patronising air, “that’s capitalism for you.”

Mr. Suit Porn grinned. Fuck, his teeth. Hux was so tired of the perfect rows of white his fellow businessmen kept flashing at him. Keeping on his crooked smile, Mr. Suit Porn leant against the railing, hands in his pockets. Hux idly wondered whether he’d fall to his death. He was a massive guy, and the railing didn’t look like it could support all that beef.

“Not a fan?” he asked, and Hux scowled.

“Pardon?”

“Of capitalism,” Mr. Suit Porn said, grin widening. Hux took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled through his nose as he tilted his head back, throat exposed. Mr. Suit Porn swallowed, dry.

“I consider myself an imperialist communist,” Hux confessed, looking at him from behind heavy lashes.

“Isn’t that self-contradictory?” Mr. Suit Porn teased. Cocky. Hux liked cocky.

“Do I contradict myself?” he quoted. “Very well, then I contradict myself. I am large; I contain multitudes.”

Mr. Suit Porn shook his head, smiling to himself. “A communist working for a bigass corp like FO.”

“Multitudes,” Hux whispered. Mr. Suit chuckled. He sounded like someone who was not accustomed to the sound of his own laughter. He shook that gorgeous head again, his shampoo-ad locks flying about.

“Can I take your complex personality to dinner?”

“Cut the crap.”

Mr. Suit Porn took it as a challenge. Something flashed in his gaze; something hungry an animal. “Can I take your delicious little ass home?” he asked, smiling like he was half joking.

“Depends.” Hux sucked on the cigarette, slowly, like he didn’t really give a shit. “What would you do with my scrumptious ass?” He snorted. “Eat it?”

“If that’s what you wanted,” Mr. Suit Porn said, dropping his voice impossibly lower.

“Gross,” Hux said as his cock twitched.

“What would you like to do?”

“Suck your dick.”

Mr. Suit Porn looked at his lips around the cigarette, then back to his eyes again. His pupils were dark and fat.

“You’ve got quite the oral fixation, don’t you?” he growled. Hux considered whether it was worth the thrill getting dicked on a balcony in full view of all his colleagues and future associates. It was not a definite no, but a no nevertheless.

“I’d prefer my hotel room.”

“Good,” Mr. Suit Porn put his hand over Hux’s on the railing. He shuddered with anticipation. Mr. Suit Porn leant in, his breath hot against Hux’s ears. “I’ll give you just what you need. Gonna make you feel so good. Feed you my dick, have you drool over it. I’ll fuck your ass just how you want it to be fucked, and then I’ll fuck you some more, spend the whole night fucking you. Sounds good?”

“Fuck,” Hux breathed, and then, with more emphasis, “Fuck, shit. I have an early meeting tomorrow. But maybe we could—”

“Me too,” Mr. Suit Porn said, pulling back. He touched his thumb to Hux’s chin, and made him tilt up his head. “But it’s not often guys like you throw themselves at me.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Hux snorted, levelling him with his gaze, wondering what he meant by guys like him. Fortunately, his brain operated quite quickly even when there was not much blood left in it. “Let’s do this like adults, how about that,” he proposed. “Give me your number, and I’ll give you a call after my meeting. It’d still count as a one night stand. No attachments. More time to do it properly.”

“Properly,” Mr. Suit Porn repeated, amused, and dropped his hand. He measured Hux. “It’s not some sorry ass attempt to escape my advances, yeah? Because if I stepped over—”

“If you don’t trust me enough not to fuck you over,” Hux interrupted, “then you shouldn’t put your cock in me or anywhere near my proximity. Believe me, if you want this, you’ll just want it even more tomorrow. Do we have a damn deal?”

Mr. Suit Porn laughed. This time, it was a proper laugh, and it made Hux’s chest tight. Mr. Suit Porn rubbed his neck, looking at Hux with head tilted. “Can I think of you tonight?”

“You whisper absolute filth into my ears and you can’t say jack off out loud? Give me your number before I change my mind, amateur.”

“Bossy.” Mr. Suit Porn handed him his phone, and Hux did the same. Their fingers brushed and it gave him bloody goosebumps. It was all the fault of that fucking suit. He mistyped his number twice, and set his name as Rule Britannia. Mr. Suit Porn went with the aubergine emoji. “So what happens next?” he asked. “Do we leave separately?”

“That’d be very considerate of you,” Hux agreed. He was already second-guessing his genius decision, but he had more alcohol in him than absolutely necessarily, he was lightheaded, sleepy and irritated, and he wanted nothing but a shower and at least four hours worth of sleep to prepare his shattered nerves to Kylo Ren. Riding his frustrations out on Mr. Suit Porn’s cock was a promising prospect for the future, one which would motivate him during the hellish meeting. Mr. Suit Porn stepped back, but Hux grabbed his tie, and gently tugged him back. “One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

He kissed him. 

* * * 

He entered Ren’s obnoxious skyscraper in high spirits. He was well-rested and energetic, and very, very proud of his self-discipline even after making out with Mr. Suit Porn for like twenty minutes, almost coming in his trousers, exchanging tasteful dick picks after he got back to his hotel, wishing each other goodnight and accidentally discussing their favourite movies and some rather sad childhood memories.

It still counted as a prolonged one-night stand, nothing else, a bit of foreplay before some bloody brilliant acts of deviance. He was ready to assassinate Ren with a ballpoint pen and walk over his corpse to the arms of his beautiful stranger. His hair was mercilessly slicked back, only some strategically arranged locks escaping the wax, he sported his navy suit like it was fresh from the dry cleaner, and he was, fuck. Living the ultra life.

The glass doors of the melodramatically modern conference room slid open for him, and then he stopped dead in his tracks. Mr. Suit Porn was right there. He was wearing the suit from yesterday, which was cheating. He turned to Hux with a snarl of “finally,” but then his eyes widened in pleasant surprise, and he straightened up.

“Savile Row Ginger!” he exclaimed. “Hello, gorgeous. Whoa, stalking me much?” He pulled Hux into a hug before he could even blink. Mr. Suit Porn— _Kylo Ren—_ gave really nice, warm bearhugs. _What the fuck_. Hux let out a noise which could’ve been described as a whimper, and Ren pulled back, getting hold of his shoulders. “What’s the matter? Hey, I’m not mad.” He rubbed Hux’s arms, and grinned, and then. Then he noticed Hux’s nametag.

“I believe,” Hux forced out, “that we have a meeting.”

“You can’t be Armitage Fucking Hux,” Ren objected, and his grip tightened. “That man is a cunt.”

“I don’t recall having a middle name,” Hux noted, coolly, “or a cunt, for that matter.”

He tried to pull away—he had to take a seat, but Ren was holding onto him. “They call him the General,” he said, almost desperate. “They say he’s a maniac. A soulless workaholic with no human connections who thinks of his employees as mere pawns. Everybody hates him.”

“My team worships the ground I walk on!” Hux snapped.

Ren just muttered, “You can’t be him.”

He stepped back. Hux crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing the spots where Ren’s hands were. He was crestfallen. “I hear you’re a manchild,” he said, and his voice was weaker than he would’ve liked. “That you damage the equipment and—”

“I just don’t tolerate mistakes,” Ren said. “That’s it. All of it. I swear. Fuck.”

They looked at each other. It was a long moment. Hux swallowed around a lump in his throat, and held out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ren.”

Ren looked down, and clasped his hand; he pulled it to his chest. “The pleasure is mine,” he said, “Armitage.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The AU was originally bona-mana's idea, and we came up with [headcanons together](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/162637577931/how-did-you-and-bona-mana-come-up-with-the-suit). She has left the project as of January 2018. The writing is the work of yours truly.
> 
> Thanks for the series summary and the beta work to [Gefionne](archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne)!


	2. Suit Your Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two of the Suit Porn AU, in which our boys accidentally catch feelings and they're being very upset about it, Kylux style.

“How was America?” his father asked, and Hux waited a beat to figure out whether the question was aimed at him. It was just the two of them in the hospital's cozy little room, but with Brendol, one couldn't be sure.

“It was nice,” he said, and since it sounded too much like smalltalk, he added, “Didn't see much of it. Went to New York, got the job done, got home.”

“New York City,” Brendol corrected, and Hux repeated:

“New York City.”

Brendol was fading away, like watercolour stirred up in a bowl. The redness in his cheeks was no more than patchy blotches, and even the colour of his hair gave way to some washy grey. Looking at him in stiff silence, Hux couldn’t quite grasp how he felt. There was a numb sort of pity in his chest, and something far more fragile and fierce.

“You didn't miss anything,” Brendol said, clearing his throat. Hux considered offering him the glass of water on the nightstand. He decided against it. “Awfully dull country,” Brendol went on, voice hoarse. “No culture, no—no _spirit_.”

“The scenery is quite nice,” Hux supplied.

“Don’t give me that crap, I wasn’t talking about— nature, I don’t—” Brendol stopped for a heaving breath. Hux glanced at the water, right next to the box of chocolates he bought. He kept his hands clasped over his knee, legs crossed. Brendol hated when he sat like that. _Like a woman_. “I went there,” Brendol coughed. “I went there when they still knew how to do business, and—” Coughing again.

Hux closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he was smiling.

“They remember you,” he said.

Brendol spit out, “I bet.”

No they fucking didn’t. Ren was twenty-nine; he probably never even heard about Brendol and his admittedly revolutionary ideas about development and employee training programmes, and how Hux had perfected them, _or_ he was well aware that he was shitting on Hux’s life’s work during their cursed meeting, which was an unfortunate possibility.

Hux shifted in his seat.

“It’s better like this,” Brendol noted, and Hux had to stop thinking about a certain American and his godawful manners.

Tilting his head, he asked, “What’s better?”

“Now that we’re strangers,” Brendol said, not looking at him, or anywhere; the thousand yard stare.

“You and whom?”

“You,” Brendol frowned, and Hux chuckled, the sound more pained than pleasant.

“You consider us strangers?” he asked with a teasing, impatient edge, and Brendol’s pale eyes were on him then. He wished they weren’t.

“I like to think of you as one,” Brendol insisted. “Just some benefactor, ah, interested in keeping me alive.”

“The reason why I’m interested in keeping you alive is because we’re not fucking strangers,” Hux raised his voice, and Brendol yelled:

“Language, Armitage!”

For a moment, they glared at each other.

“Fine,” Hux said. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I _said_ it was better. No reason to shout at your—”

“I’m sorry,” Hux repeated. Brendol looked hurt, or maybe scared, eyes glassy and wet. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

 

* * *

 

The cab ride home was horrible. He kept chewing on his thumb without realising, mind drifting to could-have-beens. He overreacted, he should’ve—

_Thin as a slip of paper…_

_A soulless workaholic with no human connections…_

 

* * * 

 

Ren was leaning to the table, watching him with that half-amused eyebrow tilt he shouldn’t have found endearing.

“What?” Hux asked, powering on his tablet. The black screen reflected his ashen face. His lips were twisted into a painful grimace.

“I just can’t fucking believe our bad luck,” Ren said. “Can you?”

“Why is it bad luck?” Hux asked, and added, “Please get your laptop ready.”

“Don’t need to.” Ren shrugged, and Hux fixed his disapproving glance slightly above his shoulders, not quite ready to meet his eyes yet.

“I’ll expect you to remember everything I said in impeccable detail.”

Ren dropped into a chair; the red leather squeaked. “Will do. I have an excellent memory and a very good eye for detail.”

“Is that so?” Hux smirked, and turned away from him, looking at the abstract painting covering most of the wall. “What colour are my eyes?” he asked.

“What?”

“Come on, Mr. Oh-So-Observant.”

“Trick question,” Ren grunted. “They change colour.”

Hux blinked.

“I’m told they’re green.”

“In natural lighting, yes, but they were slightly silver on the—The other day. And almost blue just a moment ago. They even have some golden dots, very remarkable. Also, your watch was set to London time yesterday. Didn’t bother to change it. Now it’s okay.” Ren nodded to his wrist as Hux turned back toward him. “I guess you check the time on your phone anyway. Also, your lock screen code is 20120315. Weird date.”

“Why do you—”

“I wasn’t paying attention”, Ren assured him, getting more and more flustered. “I just saw you punch it in when you gave me your number.”

“Do you remember my number?”

Ren looked at his lips, and told him. Hux cleared his throat.

“You’re excused from your…note-taking duties,” he announced. His cheeks were burning. It didn’t help that Ren was sitting with legs spread, hands in his pockets. Hux very much wanted to climb into his lap.

“To answer your question,” Ren said with an easy air. “The bad luck is that I can’t fuck you anymore. Both of us wanted anonymous sex, and it’s no longer possible. Too bad; I really, really wanted to fuck you, you know? I wanted to—”

“How about we discuss our personal matters later,” Hux interrupted, talking over Ren who calmly finished:

“—right up your pert little ass. Sure, you’ll find that I _can_ be professional.”

“Evidently not.”

Ren turned away, slightly pouting. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Hux wished he could just bite into his biceps without it being weird. Just sorta…casually bite into them. As a friend. A colleague.

“How about brunch?” Ren asked, addressing the general landscape of New York City. “I’m paying.”

“I’m not going on a date with you,” Hux said softly.

Ren swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “No, not as a date. Just, um. We should discuss our personal matters in a more fitting setting. Let’s grab a fucking waffle later or whatever.”

“Later.”

“All right then.” Ren closed his eyes, and tilted his head back. He seemed pained. “Brief me on your _in situ_ recovery enhancement plan.”

Hux looked at his tablet. He didn’t see it, his vision swimming. He counted to one, two, three.

“Our partners propose the usage of nanoparticle technology for heavy oil _in situ_ upgrading and recovery enhancement,” he began, voice surprisingly controlled. “Using multimetallic nanoparticle catalysts would be a cost-effective solution, but it is not without its challenges, of course.”

He went on, and on, and on.

 

* * *

 

Hux spared a glance at his faithful dildo attached to the shower wall, and deciding that he was much too fatigued ran a lonesome bubble bath instead. He lit some candles which were supposed to calm his nerves, and then stretched out in the oval tub which stood in the middle of his vast bathroom. He had the newest ROCE reports at hand and a half-empty pack of Sobranie cigarettes. His glasses fogged up from the warm water, but it was still better than leaving the contact lenses in for the evening.

He knew exactly how the following few hours would play out: he would read until the water got cold, and then some more. He would put on a robe, brush his teeth, wash his face, and head to bed only to continue revising reports there on his Macbook. Millicent would join him eventually, and fall asleep curled up over his chest. He would have to wake her up around midnight to put away the laptop and put on his pressed pyjamas; and then he’d lie on his stomach, wide awake, thinking about meetings and deals, plotting, planning, worrying, and then he’d think about nothing; and then, because even his feelings seemed to be scheduled, he would think about his father and wish he would just die already; and then he would feel bad about it, but only slightly. He was bound to relive some embarrassing adolescent memories, fantasize about food and success and sex, and after that, he’ll treat himself to thoughts about politics and sociology, have some epiphanies, and at some point, he would fall asleep. He wouldn’t dream.

Except he did.

He was in a hotel room which was a mixture of every hotel room he’d ever been to. He was wearing bunny ears; his subconscious didn’t bother to explain why, and at the time, it didn’t seem weird. He had a dress shirt on, which was not his own; it kept sliding down his shoulders. And Ren was there, and he was eating Hux’s ass like he promised. It was all very realistic, if one overlooked the bunny ears and how the bed seemed to be floating; he even felt Ren’s big nose pressing into the delicate flesh, and his rough fist curling around Hux’s rigid length. He kept lapping at his entrance; his tongue was hot and wet. Hux was crying with pleasure, and Ren whispered “I got you, I got you,” his free hand holding Hux’s trembling thigh. He sobbed and wriggled, and Ren slowly transformed into this huge, warm presence, maybe bliss itself, this gentle and overwhelming force which lifted Hux up and held him there, just on the edge. Hux screamed, head lolling back, and he was coming and coming and coming.

He woke to discover that he had not, in fact, had metaphysical sex with Kylo Ren, but that he was achingly hard. He ignored his erection and fumbled for his phone, squinting at the dickpic Ren had sent him before things got awkward, just to remind himself that Ren was simply a man and that he was far, far away, his perfectly toned abs out of reach, the most beautiful cock Hux ever laid eyes on never to be touched or tasted, not by him, anyway. He was looking at the picture with eyes burning and whispered: “Bastard.”

It was the worst insult he could think of.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure?” Ren asked him at the waffle place which had this ‘50s diner vibe: checkered floor and mint colours. Ren looked very out of place, the cutlery like children’s toys in his huge hands. Hux wished he could stop staring at his hands.

“Yes,” he said, and at least he sounded convincing. “It’d be inappropriate. We’re likely to collaborate in the future.” He turned his attention back to his waffle. It was soaked in maple syrup, butter melting on the top. Everything in the US was too sweet, even his tea, which he regretted ordering.

“We could just do it again, then,” Ren proposed. “Next time you’re here.”

“You don’t want it to be a regular thing,” Hux reminded him. “You told me you don’t, that all you wanted was an anonymous hookup.”

“You’re not here often, are you? And I don’t know you very well,” Ren noted, and Hux hissed:

“I won’t be your bloody fuckbuddy—”

Ren bit his lips. He did a puppy eyes thing, and Hux wanted to kick him. He was falling in love with him. No, that was a strong expression. Still, Ren was clever and gorgeous, and he was practically begging himself into Hux’s pants again now that their meeting was over, his reservations seemingly forgotten.

That’s why Hux said no.

“You can’t keep changing your mind like that,” Hux explained. “I’m getting the impression that you’re talking yourself into something you don’t actually want.”

“Oh, I do want it,” Ren snorted. “It just wouldn’t be good for me.”

“See?” Hux punctuated his words with his fork. “It wouldn’t be good for you.”

Ren dropped his gaze, looking at his blueberry pancakes like they personally offended him, and then back to Hux. His eyes were the warmest colour, gleaming brown in the soft sunlight. “It’s dangerous when I get emotionally attached.”

“Then don’t,” Hux suggested, and Ren chuckled. He leant back in his chair, balancing it on its back legs.

“It’s so strange. Like you were, or _weren’t_ a multitude of persons: you’re not my pretty ginger in a pretty suit from the night before, and you’re not Armitage Hux, not as I know him, anyway, you’re not the same person I just had a meeting with, and yet you’re all three; you keep changing and I can’t keep up. It freaks me out.” He raked his fingers through his hair, the tease. “On the other hand, I want to find out who you would be with me inside you. I’m just scared that I’d look you in the eyes and he’d look back.”

“Who?”

“Fucking Armitage Hux.”

“I have a similar problem,” Hux confessed. “I’d look at you and see _that_ Ren and slap you.”

“I’m actually kinda into that.”

Hux reached for his too-sweet tea.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“This is it, then?”

“I suppose, yes. Feel free to finish your pancakes.”

“Wow, thanks for _allowing_ me,” Ren huffed. He let the chair fall back to its rightful place, and got his fork, holding it like a weapon. He started to methodically murder his pancakes, and asked, “Are you this bossy in bed?”

“It’d be advisable not to ponder too much upon my intimate habits, seeing that it’d be best if you just forgot about me.”

For a moment, Ren looked sad. He shoveled some pancakes into his mouth, and said, “I won’t be able to do that.”

 

* * *

 

Hux missed him, and that was the end of it. It was bound to happen; he had a habit of getting attached to certain people who were unattainable in this way or that. He was deeply impressed by Ren, and he still had some animal desire curled in his stomach, the need to just mindlessly rut. It was easier to focus on that, and not to give too much mind to the moments he wondered how could he amaze Ren, how could he make him absolutely obsessed with nothing but the right words. Giving thirty-minute talks to him in his head was fruitless.

He still did that.

He constructed dialogues while answering highly classified messages and attending conferences, and nobody on his team noticed anything amiss. In the following weeks, he felt like he was faking being himself, going through his routine, managing tasks and projects as usual, but a part of him was still in New York City. He imagined walking side-by-side with Ren in Central Park as he was riding the dick of a Scottish human resources officer in reverse, wondering what he and Ren might say to each other as the Scot hammered into him, hips jerking. He told Hux he had a wife and two kids. Hux liked the married type, especially if they were closeted; they tended not to ask for his number, which made matters easier. He pretended it was Ren fucking him with such relentless impatience.

“Hold me,” he asked.

 

* * *

 

Ren kissed him in front of the diner. It was just to say goodbye. Hux parted his lips for him, tasting the sticky sweetness of blueberry syrup. Ren deepened the kiss and cupped his face in both hands; Hux held onto his wrists and trembled. He nipped on Ren’s full lips when he tried to pull back, and the man huffed, amused.

“Feisty,” Ren whispered, pressing a peck on the corner of Hux’s mouth. “I can taste you,” he said. “I can taste who you really are.” It sounded cryptic, but still nice.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Hux muttered, eyes still closed, foreheads touching. “And too late.”

“Let’s try again. Next time.”

Hux shook his head, and Ren kissed his eyelids. It didn’t feel real, none of it.

“You’ll miss me,” he told Hux, who frowned.

“Don’t you mean—”

“I mean that you’ll miss me,” Ren said. “And when it becomes unbearable, you should call me.”

“That’s not what we agreed on. Use your perfect memory; it was five minutes ago.”

Ren brushed his thumb over Hux’s wet lips. “Can’t you feel that we were wrong?”

Hux shook his head again.

 

* * *

 

 _I might have been wrong,_ he texted Ren about a month later. No reply came; it was probably ass o’clock in the US anyway. He put away his phone, made himself stop looking at the X-ray scans of his father’s lungs the doctor sent him, and went on with his day.

Thirteen hours later he was putting on Sloane’s new curtains when his phone chimed. He didn’t dare check it; Sloane and her maid were watching him performing a balancing act atop the rusty ladder, one of them very much entertained and the other mumbling a prayer to the Holy Virgin.

“Told you you could reach it,” Sloane shouted from her wheelchair, and murmured to the maid, “He’s like a beanstalk. Used to be tiny, now look at him.”

“He’s going to die,” the maid announced.

Half an hour later Hux was on ground level again, adjusting his rolled-up sleeves and feeling very accomplished, but definitely nauseated. He had forty minutes to get to a meeting. He checked his texts as he shrugged his waistcoat back on, and his heart leapt.

*aubergine* _wrong about what????_

*aubergine* _is this about the employee training_

He smirked at his screen, and texted back ‘ _guess again_.’

“Uh,” Sloane commented with a grimace. “I know that look too well. Who is he?”

“That’s the exciting part, isn’t it?” Hux asked, pocketing the phone. “Finding out.”

 

* * *

 

*aubergine* _in situ recovery_

*aubergine* _no?_

*aubergine* _superior shareholder returns_

*aubergine* _global energy demand_

*aubergine* _the moral character of my mother_

*aubergine* _no I got it_

*aubergine* _non-aqueous extraction_

*aubergine* _told you the current bitumen-extraction thing was bullshit don’t cry on my shoulder if snoke yelled at you for it or sg_

 **Own Nr** : _I might have been wrong about taking risks. I should have taken a risk with you. Even if it ended badly, I wouldn’t feel so much regret as I do now._

 

Ren didn’t reply.

 

* * *

 

Hux kept checking his emotions the same way one might conduct a psychological experiment: measuring the varying degrees of despair and indifference. He discovered long ago that rejection suited him; it just made him step up his game. The only problem with Ren was that there _wasn’t_ a next level.

Hux could live with that. Live with that hollow feeling inside his stomach.

He could even force on a pleasant expression and put his silent phone aside when their American intern, Finn Something, entered, clutching an envelope in unsure hands.

“Are you lost?” Hux asked, and Finn flinched.

“No, I uh— Got this for you? And we gotta talk.”

“You don’t have an appointment,” Hux said, but nodded to the chair facing his desk nevertheless. “Make sure it never happens again.”

“It won’t,” Finn told him. “I’m resigning.”

Hux arched an eyebrow and measured the kid, who remained standing. He had a cheap suit on and wore a brave expression, temples glistening with cold sweat.

“How is that my concern?” Hux asked in that singsong voice which made everyone who knew him begin to look for an exit. Finn didn’t know him.

“I work for you.”

“You work for my company,” Hux corrected. “You don’t report directly to me. If you wish to resign, get in touch with your lawyer and contact Miss Phasma.”

“I want you to know why I’m resigning,” Finn forced out.

Hux vaguely hoped he won’t throw up on his carpet. It was a one-of-a-kind design. Hux touched his fingertips to each other. “You’ve been contacted by the Resistance,” he said. “You have ethical concerns.”

“How— no. No. I’m not with the, the Resistance. What’s that?”

“Get out,” Hux told him very calmly, and turned back to his Macbook.

Finn just stood there, fingers curling into a fist. “You won’t get away with it. We won’t let you. I’m coming for you, Hux. I’m coming for you.”

“Put that on my desk and leave before I call security,” Hux said, not looking at him. Finn huffed out an angry breath of air, and slammed the envelope on the desk, upsetting the solar system-themed Newton’s cradle Hux had there. The sun came off and started rolling towards him; he stopped it with a fingertip and glared at Finn. He walked himself out. Hux glared some more at his back, then let the sun fall into his open palm.

Finn’s pitiful alabi was a crumpled, crimson envelope addressed to Hux. He probably just grabbed it from the pigeon hole. Hux’s name was written on it in angular cursive, and his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the air mail stamp. It was probably false alarm, and yet. He put the sun in his pocket, and got a letter opener from the top right drawer. He sliced the envelope open. It contained a plane ticket and a short note.

  
_We have much to discuss - Kylo_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, the AU was @bona-mana's idea, who was having intense headcanon sessions with me // find me on tumblr as [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com)
> 
> There's a [moodboard](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/170195130956/suit-porn-au-armitage-hux-has-worked) for the fic
> 
> A million thanks to [Gefionne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne) for the beta reading!


	3. Death of a Bachelor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 of the Suit Porn AU, in which there's some actual suit porn, finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please refer to the end for **content warnings**

Own nr: I’m going to throttle you.

*aubergine* ??

*aubergine* didn’t you get it

*aubergine* fucking snailmail

Own nr: Your emotional manipulation parcel disguised as a grand romantic gesture? Yes, I did get that. Hence my murderous intentions.

*aubergine* no it wasn’t that

*aubergine* my grandfather used to say a gentleman doesn’t discuss personal matters on the phone

Own nr: He was right about that

Own nr: A gentleman would have called me to agree on a mutually convenient time, book a flight, and come to London

*aubergine* oh

Own nr: Did the gentleman neglect to think about that?

*aubergine* it did occur to me that maybe I could just surprise you at work

Own nr: No.

Own nr: NO.

*aubergine* whatever

Own nr: If you ever just barge in, I swear to God

*aubergine* it started here.

*aubergine* it should play out here

Own nr: You’re taking it way too seriously

Own nr: And you’re frightfully dramatic and headstrong and plain rude

*aubergine* are you quite finished insulting me

Own nr: Bitch.

*aubergine* so you’re not coming

Own nr: Oh I’m coming

*aubergine* wait are you really?

Own nr: Very considerate of you to order me multiple meals, but I can’t eat on a plane

*aubergine* a gentleman would have called

*aubergine* ;)

*aubergine* also you should eat it’s an 8-hour flight

Own nr: I’m aware I should, I just told you I can’t

Own nr: It upsets my stomach

*aubergine* I’ll look after you

Own nr: Don’t try to talk smooth when the topic of discussion is me throwing up

Own nr: And there was no need to call. You bought the ticket. You know when my flight is.

*aubergine* I figured since you didn’t text me you didn’t like it and won’t come

Own nr: I didn’t like it but I’m on my way to tell you in your face how much I didn’t like it

Own nr: Please describe to me in detail how did it feel thinking I have dumped you

*aubergine* I didn’t look at it that way

*aubergine* I knew I wouldn’t give up on you

*aubergine* I knew I would go to the airport nevertheless and wait for u

*aubergine* even if I knew you won’t come, even if you told me you won’t

*aubergine* and then I would’ve flown to London and

*aubergine* demanded you look at me as you refuse me

*aubergine* look me in the eyes

*aubergine* I would’ve accepted my fate

*aubergine* but you couldn’t have done it

*aubergine* I know you wouldn’t have been able to

*aubergine* Armitage?

*aubergine* I’ve been waiting for you to come around

*aubergine* I can’t wait any longer

*aubergine* say sg

Own nr: Dozed off

*aubergine* fuck you

Own nr: I actually dozed off, idiot

Own nr: I’m at a loss what to say

*aubergine* sorry

Own nr: Anyhow

Own nr: You were right that we should not discuss it on the phone, so see you in about twelve hours

*aubergine* 12????

*aubergine* are you coming on BIKE?

Own nr: I had to google how long it would take to get to NY on bike just to show you how wrong your calculations are, and there were no valid results, so it was a complete waste of time

Own nr: Although I could take into account what happens if I get my bicycle on a boat

*aubergine* why is it taking you 12 hours to get here

*aubergine* is there a strike

*aubergine* was there an accident

*aubergine* send three dots if you’re in danger

*aubergine* answer your phone

Own nr: I very much doubt that the first words of the baby sitting in front of me with her father should be the string of profanities our conversation would ultimately lead to

Own nr: When I land, I’ll check into a hotel, freshen up a bit, call you, agree on a date, and then I’ll sleep for thirty years

*aubergine* no we can’t waste time

*aubergine* eat something & stay hydrated and shit come to my place and you can use the shower and sleep here and we don’t have to talk just please let me look at you

Own nr: Are you implying that you want to watch me sleep? If so I’m changing route and go to Australia where you shall never find me.

*aubergine* I want to be near you

*aubergine* please

*aubergine* please I couldn’t get you out of my head

Own nr: This is the sort of embarrassing thing we should only say in person

*aubergine* please

Own nr: Will consider it

Own nr: And I will try to sleep and force down a yoghurt

Own nr: Will contact you when I land

Own nr: You ridiculous man

 

* * *

 

Hux left the baggage reclaim with his I-94 form and passport between his teeth, and suffered through a humiliating inspection as the CBP officer, who sorted through his underwear, packs of lube, and a family size pack of condoms, informed him that he neglected to claim a half-eaten pack of gummy bears he completely forgot he had purchased in London. He paid the fine, had the CBP verbally threaten his visa, and headed to the terminal exit door, chin high.

JFK airport was grey and claustrophobic, such a sharp contrast with the familiar arches of Heathrow’s high ceiling and welcoming atmosphere. Some silly upbeat music was playing. He had half a mind to turn back on his heels and flip off the United States, except he didn’t want to go through the whole border inspection ordeal again, and also, he had caught sight of Ren.

Ren had the audacity to look devastatingly gorgeous, towering over the mass of waving and smiling families. They locked gazes, and there was no turning back. Hux neared him, his heart beating faster with every step. He didn’t have a clear memory of his face; it was always softer or sharper than in reality, the proportions all wrong, the colours off. Seeing him now provided a kind of comforting sensation, like when he put on his glasses in in the morning, the world shifting into place. He expected to be met by that trademark shit-eating grin, but Ren looked at him with only his eyes smiling.

Hux stopped short of the railing and wanted to say something which conveyed _meet me at the end_ and _missed you_ and _god I_ _hate you_ and _not now_ all at once, but his thought process stopped when Ren pulled him into a hug.

He melted.

Damn Ren, but this was the best hug ever. It was frighteningly easy to nestle into it, to pretend he had never gone back to Europe, that he was always right here, safe in the warmth of their embrace. It felt like travelling in time, the moment of arrival, like his soul finally caught up with his drifting body, seeping back into him. He was being remade, his heavy as lead limbs relaxing and mind easing.

“Move along, sir,” an officer warned, snapping him out of his trance. He clung to Ren tighter just to be a nuance.

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he whispered into his neck, and Ren let out some small, content sound. To Hux’s shock, he hauled him up over the railing. The officer tried to say something, but trailed off mid-sentence with a scoff as Hux cried out: “What on—”

“Gotcha,” Ren mumbled, dropping him to his feet and pulling him right back into his arms, like nothing had happened. This time, it was less spiritual, reality and particularities starting to register themselves, and Hux tensed, but didn’t pull back. He allowed Ren to have this moment, vaguely worried about his luggage and more than a tad concerned about this madman who had put his forehead against Hux’s chest, demanding to be touched. Hux caressed his nape with a sort of careful marvel, like checking whether Ren was really there. He was, but so was the rest of the world, so Hux sank his fingers into those luxurious locks and tugged, a warning. Ren growled happily.

“Not here,” Hux whispered, and pulled at Ren’s hair again, this time a bit harder. “Will you behave now?” he asked, and Ren stepped back, holding onto his shoulders. His presence was somehow even more overwhelming with that short distance put between them, with Ren’s eyes raking over Hux’s features as if he was trying to memorise them.

“Let’s get your stuff,” Ren said, but didn’t make any move to gather them or let go of Hux. He had on a light grey suit with a crisp shirt, battle-ready and perfect, probably fresh from work. Hux tugged at his lapels.

“Do you have the rest of the day off?” he asked, and Ren hummed. The richness of his voice was simply indecent.

“Of course.” He pressed a fleeting kiss to Hux’s cheek, and turned to lift his luggage like it didn’t weigh anything. Hux was staring at the mean muscles shifting beneath Ren’s jacket when Ren asked him: “So which one is it?”

“Huh? Pardon, sorry.”

Ren turned to him, and there it was: that fucking smirk Hux wanted to kiss off his lips. He shuddered when he realised he could just _go for it_.

“Your place or my place?” Ren asked with the sort of playfulness Hux had learnt meant that he was nervous or desperate. They started making their way through the busy crowd, Hux digging his nails into his palm as Ren tailed behind him, carrying his deerskin suitcase and laptop bag for him like a good boyfriend. But he wasn’t _that_.

“I feel like a war bride,” Hux commented, beginning to panic.

Ren quickened his steps to catch up with him. “What?”

“Foreign women who married occupying soldiers were shipped to their husbands in bulk once the war was over,” Hux explained., Before he could say more, Ren interrupted:

“I know what a war bride is.”

Hux twitched his nose, the heat of embarrassment rushing to his face, burning the tips of his ears. “So what’s ‘what?’”

“Couldn’t hear you. Why are you a war bride?”

Hux realised he wasn’t ready to talk about his innermost feelings and anxieties amidst the clamour of people, but asking to discuss it later would have meant deciding what it’s going to be: a hotel or Ren’s apartment. He wasn’t ready to make up his mind yet, but they were nearing the parking lot rapidly, practically marching, and an agreement would have to be made—

“Wait,” Ren snapped, and Hux stopped dead in his tracks; it sounded so much like a command, and there was something weirdly comforting in that. He put his hand over his stomach, just briefly, and glanced at Ren over his shoulders, squinting against the harsh neon lights. “Are you okay?” Ren demanded, then corrected: “How are you?”

“It’s just all very sudden,” Hux said, voice somewhat broken.

Ren nodded, briskly, holding on to the luggage. “Have you managed to eat?”

“Yes.”

“I brought you water and, uh, muffins. They’re in the car.”

“Muffins,” Hux repeated, and Ren shrugged.

“They were easily available. They’re yours, even if you choose to catch a taxi or whatever.”

“I thank thy generosity.”

“Ha-ha. I just want to take care of you,” Ren said, and Hux resumed walking, at a much easier pace.

“You don’t have to,” he noted when Ren fell into step.

“That’s why I said I wanted to. Will you let me? Anything you need.”

Hux glanced at him, then quickly away.

“Isn’t that a bit early,” he mumbled. It wasn’t a question, not quite.

“This might be all I ever get,” Ren said, earnest. “These exact minutes. I want to make the most of them, before you disappear. Pretend we have centuries to fill with memories.”

Hux swallowed around something in his throat. They’d reached the lift. Their reflection was distorted on the smudgy silver. There was something humiliating about their presence in their industrial, commonplace surroundings, like they didn’t belong here. The place swallowed up every word they said.

“It must be nice,” Hux commented, “living like you have time.”

“It isn’t, really,” Ren told him. Hux took in his ardent eyes, his sad lips, the way he was clutching the luggage, viciously protective, and how his shoulder sagged.

“Your place,” Hux said softly.

 

* * *

 

Kylo’s penthouse had the rustic charm of New York apartments with its bare brick walls giving way to the night skyline and the sharp scent of wood hanging in the air. The lights were soft and golden, illuminating a tasteful arrangement of custom-made furniture, metal statues, and exotic flowers. Hux walked to the windows, shoes in hand, tentative but anticipating.

Ren announced: “The city that doesn’t sleep.”

“It should be day,” Hux noted, peeping at the glimmering skyscrapers. Blue smoke drifted down and dissolved into the early evening. For a moment, he couldn’t recall the name of the body of water spread out below. _Hudson_. It looked like an entire ocean compared to the slim Thames.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Ren asked, putting Hux’s luggage away. “Coffee? Champagne?”

Hux licked his lips. He had devoured four muffins on their way here, mostly so he could avoid talking, although, to his surprise, the silence in the car hadn’t been awkward at all; it was the same companionable lull which now settled between them.

Hux waited a few beats, enjoying this, then responded, “I’m good, thank you. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

“Right,” Ren nodded, and pulled some stray locks behind his absurd ears, holding his hair in his fist like a ponytail. “Um. Make yourself comfortable.”

Hux looked around, noting the various sofas, armchairs, and whatnot, each temptingly comfy, and then he just turned back to Ren, who still lingered by the entrance.

“Where’s the bedroom?” he asked. Ren frowned, but his gaze was a broken sort of hopeful.

“Are you sure?”

“Told you. It’s the only thing I’m sure about when it comes to us. I want to…” What was the right word? _Go to bed_? _Fuck you into oblivion_? He finished with the part that mattered: “With you.”

Ren smiled at him, and it was heartbreaking how relieved and grateful he looked.

 

* * *

 

Hux sank to his knees, fully clothed apart from his jacket. Ren was sitting at the edge of the wide bed, looking like he was about to experience some sort of miracle, his eyes burning into Hux’s through the deep shadows of the room. Hux was afraid he’d disappear any minute; he placed his hands over Ren’s knees, keeping him in place, rubbing reverent little circles over them through the material of Ren’s trousers. He sat there like some sort of prince, accepting Hux’s pledge of adoration; they were conspiring royals.

“You’re beautiful,” Ren told him, and Hux scoffed.

“Save it.”

Ren’s twisted his lips, offended. “Surely you must know it.”

“That’s why there’s no need to remind me,” Hux said, squeezing his knees to show him he was jesting. Ren eased, somewhat, and allowed Hux to unlace his shoes. “I’m handsome in a…British sort of way, one might say.”

“You’re not handsome,” Ren objected as Hux pulled his shoes off, “but you’re beautiful.”

“Fuck you, I guess.”

Ren grinned, wicked, and pressed his socked feet against Hux’s chest, kicking him back. Hux kept his balance and grabbed Ren’s leg, kissing it above the ankle.

“I like your mouth the best,” Ren said.

“Excited to get these lips wrapped around your big, fat cock?”

“There’s that,” Ren admitted. Hux noticed that he shifted in his seat, getting antsy. “I love their fullness and their pinkness. The curve of Cupid’s bow. Your sneers.” He poked Hux’s chin with his toes. “The angry twitches.” He sounded almost dreamy.

Hux shook his head. “Just get naked.”

“I was under the impression you were undressing me.”

“I’m a tad knackered; I need some collaboration. Come on. Your jacket.”

Ren arched an eyebrow, the bastard, and shrugged it off, letting it slide down his powerful shoulders, then tossed it away into a far corner, like he didn’t give a damn. Hux almost interrupted and told him to go pick it up, but he enjoyed the show too much. Ren got rid of his tie next, let it fall to the ground, and shook out his hair with a careless air. Something really should’ve been done with that hair; Ren’s way with it was just simply unfair.

“Your turn,” Ren announced.

“If you want something done right,” Hux mumbled, and signalled Ren to lean closer.

“I undress myself every day; it gets boring,” Ren complained. The fucking brat loomed over Hux as he popped a few buttons open, starting from the collar. “I prefer it with a partner - spices up things a little, yeah? I like this part of sex. The drumroll. I know you do, too. Look at you, you’re so happy you get to do this.”

Hux revealed the wide expanse of Ren’s firm chest, and very casually pinched both of his nipples. Ren yelped, and even jumped a little. Hux twisted the hard nubs, and noted, “mind your arrogance.”

“Fuck,” Ren breathed, and gasped as Hux leant in and, between his fingers, lapped at one abused nipple. Hux did it again, encouraged, loving how Ren’s muscles shifted under his palm, how easy it seemed to make such a strong man weak with want. He closed his eyes, savouring the salty taste of skin, listening to Ren’s shaky intake of air. He made his way farther down, kissing him over the ribs, the trembling abdomen, one kiss to the belt buckle. He made eye contact as he flicked his tongue out and licked quickly at Ren’s hard bulge. He didn’t mind the rough texture of Ren’s trousers for the moan it earned him. He cupped him in his hand, and squeezed very lightly. Ren’s head lolled back.

“Get naked,” Hux said, “or I’ll make you come in your pants.”

Ren ground down in answer. “Pushy slut,” he gritted. Hux rubbed him harder, heavy-lidded with arousal as he glanced up. Their eyes met, and Ren’s cock twitched in his hand, precome leaking through his clothes.

“You’re making a mess,” Hux whispered, swiping his fingers over the small, sticky spot. Ren groaned. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Clean it up,” Ren said. There was something manic about him, which shouldn’t have turned Hux on as much as it did. He made a considering sound, and licked at the stain as instructed. It was almost worshipful. Ren sank his fingers into his hair, and unclasped his belt.

“Oh, I’ve earned it?” Hux teased, chasing the taste with the tip of his tongue. “I’ve earned the privilege of sucking your filthy cock?”

“You have no idea how much I wanted it,” Ren rasped. Hux sat back on his heels to help him out of the ruined trousers; it felt like his biggest achievement ever, making Ren like this, and his heart soared with pride. He threw the discarded clothes on the bed.

“I can make an educated guess,” he noted, and ran his hands down Ren’s calves. “Sock garters, eh?”

“They’re very practical.”

“You can leave them on.” Hux narrowed his eyes at him. “For practical reasons.”

“Smartass,” Ren snorted. Hux wanted to prove just what a smartass he was with a practically witty retort, but his higher brain functions halted for a moment as Ren took his cock out from his white boxers. He was rock hard for him, the lovely tip glistening, and Hux reached for him without thinking. 

“I never deleted your dickpic,” he blurted as he closed his dry fist around the swollen shaft. Ren’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I kept yours as well,” he confessed, breathless.

“As long as we both have blackmail material, it’s fine,” Hux said, grip tightening. He started pumping Ren’s cock without any finesse, fumbling and impatient. He had all but forgotten the elaborate scenarios he had dreamt up of their reunion. At this moment, an amateurish handjob seemed to be the be-all-end-all of their affair, merely because he could touch him, touch Ren and make him feel good, and for a few seconds, it seemed like his sole purpose in the world. He pulled a bit harder, and Ren’s hips bucked. He was so wonderfully responsive. He was everything Hux had ever hoped he would be.

“When were you last tested?” Hux asked, and Ren looked at him like he could no longer remember English, eyes hooded and heavy.

“What? Oh fuck— Went to a clinic shortly after you left? Wanted to be prepared. Fuck, just a little bit tighter—that’s right, fhu—”

Hux spat into his palm and readjusted his grip. His hand slid up and down easily, long fingers wrapped in a snug circle around Ren’s hot length.

“No adventures since then?”

Ren groaned. “No, of course not.”

Hux’s nose twitched, a nervous little tic. If Ren noticed, he didn’t make a comment on it.

“Will you come into my mouth then?”

“Yes— Yes, please, yes.”

Hux hummed, pleased. His heart was heavy, the evidence of Ren’s unquestioning and premature loyalty making him both triumphant and guilty. He pressed an apologetic kiss to the tip and parted his lips. Taking him in deeper, he thought that if he had access to Ren, anytime, anywhere, he wouldn’t want anybody else; not because of some outdated notion of fidelity or to conform to monogamy, just merely because Ren was _enough_. There was nothing more he could ask.

Ren’s cock filled his mouth, and it was so nice, once he got used to the stretch. Ren whispered “Jesus Christ, Armitage don’t you have gag reflex?” as he sank deeper, and Hux tried to look smug while having his throat fucked. Ren bottomed out and gasped, fingers sinking into Hux’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer. “You’re not real,” Ren breathed. “Look at you taking it so well, you’re a dream.”

Hux pulled back, letting Ren’s cock slip free and smear saliva over his cheek as it nearly slapped him.

“I consider it something of a speciality,” he croaked, and kissed the shaft before taking Ren back into his mouth.

The truth was that for some odd reason, he always found giving head soothing. He enjoyed how the tip rubbed against his palate and the monotony of bobbing his head, sucking and licking. It was, in fact, more comforting than arousing, at least for him, and he slowly went soft as Ren started nearing his orgasm. Maybe that was the best part: the selflessness of the act—charity was not something he was very familiar with, but he wanted to give this experience to Ren _so bad_.

Ren caressed Hux’s hollowed-out cheeks, feeling himself from the outside, and sighed. He was a wreck: hair sticking to his forehead, chest flushed.

“Gonna fill you up,” he hissed, and Hux moaned around his cock at that. Ren slid free and grabbed his slippery cock. He started stroking it, and Hux opened his mouth, tongue out, looking at him expectantly. “I knew you were a cumslut,” Ren told him, “I knew it the minute— _shit_!”

He came over Hux’s neck and chin, mostly; Hux could feel hot come dribbling down to his collar, painting his tie. He touched his waistcoat to check the damage, looking at Ren, and his fingers came back sticky and wet. He licked at them, and Ren groaned. “Shit,” he repeated. “Sorry.”

“I love a surprise ending.”

“I swear I can aim, normally—nevermind, c’mhere, I’m gonna lick you clean.”

“Wouldn’t you rather bring me a towel, please?” Hux asked as Ren reached for him. “Be a darling.”

“Oh, of course. Can I kiss you?”

“After.”

Ren tucked himself back, and smiled at Hux, blissed. “Fuck, you look exquisite. Will be back in a minute. Think about what you’d have me do to you.” He kissed his forehead, which was somehow a bit absurd, and headed to the bathroom. Hux glanced after him, pleased to see that his walk was somewhat wobbly, then climbed over the bed. He was ecstatic yet drained. He clenched his jaw, appreciating the slow burn of exhaustion, then smeared some of the come which had managed to hit his lips. _Filthy_. He made Ren like this. He sucked on his fingers, tasting Ren’s seed like it was a delicacy. Ren caught him doing it as he returned with a wet towel, and grinned. “You’re _insatiable_.”

“Try me,” Hux retorted, spread out and boneless. Ren dropped down next to him, and started dabbing at his neck with the towel. He was being surprisingly tender. He ran it over Hux’s collar and frowned.

“I gotta get you a new shirt.”

“Bought two. Precaution.”

“We should’ve pre-negotiated our semi-clothed sex kink beforehand,” Ren noted, and tossed the towel aside. Hux rolled onto his side so he was facing him, and leant in for a kiss. Ren caught his lips with his, then licked his way in. He was a very good kisser, and it was becoming a problem. He started unbuttoning Hux’s waistcoat, and whispered into the kiss, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Likewise,” Hux mumbled, then yawned.

“You got _sleepy_ from sucking dick?” Ren asked, astounded, and helped him out of the waistcoat. Hux let out a drowsy groan.

“I’ve flown eight hours to suck that dick.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Clearly.” Ren gave him a quick peck. “Fuck, I can taste myself everywhere. Isn’t that evidence enough, huh? How hard you made me come?”

“Mission accomplished,” Hux congratulated himself. Ren untied his tie for him and pulled his shirt off, treating his clothes with much greater respect than his own. He tucked him in to the chin, and nuzzled close, warm, so warm. Hux clung to his neck, pulling his head to his chest.

“Don’t sleep with your lenses on,” Ren warned him.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Hux rebutted, then groaned. “Ugh, I can’t take them out without a, mm, mirror.”

“Let me.”

Hux blinked at him as Ren delicately touched his left eye. It was _weird_. Somehow more intimate than the blowjob.

“You do have a few spare pairs on you, don’t you?” Ren murmured. Hux was in no position to roll his eyes, but he almost tried.

“Yes, and my glasses.”

“You wear glasses!” Ren beamed. He pulled back, and rummaged around on the nightstand. Hux curled up, pulling his knees to his chest. He considered getting rid of his slacks, but he didn’t have the mental power to solve the riddle of buckles and buttons.

“I can surprise you, after all.” He yawned again. Ren rolled him over and hugged him from behind. Hux wriggled around so his ass was pressed to Ren’s crotch. It was a considerably comfortable position. “Wake me in an hour?” he mumbled.

“Mm, okay.”

“Fuck me so well I won’t be able to sit on the plane?”

“Mm, more than okay.” Ren put his hand over his stomach and squeezed gently. Hux closed his eyes, letting Ren pet him, and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

After what could have been ten minutes or forever and a day, he found himself wide awake. It was an unfortunate habit: his consciousness always came rushing back in, like someone just switched on a light inside his skull. He rose up onto to his elbows and peeked around. He was in Ren’s bedroom with its black and navy colour scheme, grand but cozy, the scents already strangely familiar. He waited a few beats for the usual anxiety waking up in a foreign place stirred up in him, but he was just content and still very, very jetlagged.

“Good morning,” Ren said. “Or happy one AM or whatever.”

Hux glanced at him from over his naked shoulder. Ren was sitting against the headboard with a tablet in his lap, sweatpants on, hair tousled; he looked heartbreakingly casual. Hux entertained the idea of waking up to this sight every odd morning, to have Ren’s smile shine like the sunrise. He firmly suppressed the thought.

“Getting some work done?” he muttered.

“Intimidating my employees relaxes me.”

“Anyone still up and working doesn’t deserve being intimidated.”

Ren shrugged his massive shoulders. Hux couldn’t help but stare, wishing he had his contacts on to appreciate a shirtless Ren in HD.

“It’s Mitaka, and he doesn’t count, he’s in Japan.”

Hux frowned, snapped out of his thirsty thoughts. “You know Mitaka?”

Ren’s grip on the tablet tightened. “Yeah. I can’t believe they made me meet him before I even got the chance to get to know you; what a tool.”

“I think he’s a hard-working and very promising COO,” Hux mused, rolling to his stomach. “Makes mean mince pies, besides.”

“Don’t you think he was the one talking shit about us?”

“Him? He’s the least gossipy person to ever walk on this Earth.”

“Huh.” Ren looked at the screen, and deleted back a few lines. “Maybe it was that intern kid Finn.”

“Now you’re just shooting in the dark.”

“I’ll overwhelm you with evidence later.” Ren set the tablet aside, and poked Hux with his toes. He groaned, and Ren poked him again. “How are you feeling?”

“Wrung-out,” Hux mumbled. “Getting irked. Do you really think that _my_ intern—”

“No work-related topic is allowed beyond this point.” Ren drew a line in the air. Hux snorted, and got to his hands and knees with heroic effort. “I like where this is going,” Ren commented.

“This is going to the bathroom.” He managed to stand up, the blanket wrapped around him still. He struggled to make his walk to the door look seductive, and gave up halfway. “Get ready for when I get back,” he requested, somewhat defeated. “You didn’t wake me up on time, we shall make up for the loss.”

“You were too cute.”

“I was what?”

Ren rubbed his neck, and glanced away. “You wrinkled your nose when I tried to wake you. I didn’t know anyone could, uh, do that. While asleep. Looking so offended and displeased.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of a _resting_ bitch face?” Hux deadpanned, and left the room with a swish of his blanket cape.

 

* * *

 

He put the blanket on a chair, wondering briefly why did Ren’s bathroom had a cushioned chair in it, but then again, it also had a fur rug and a small chandelier. He unbuckled his belt, letting his creased slacks drop to the ground, and stepped out of them with a negligent elegance. He had sock garters on, yet another _interest_ he had in common with Ren, and sheer black briefs he couldn’t wait to let him discover. He relieved himself, washed his hands and then his face and neck. While he was at it, he brushed his teeth with the toothbrush Ren had prepared for him. He didn’t expect much from getting fucked at this ungodly hour, but he could count on Ren trying his best. The man was clearly a perfectionist.

He all but ran back to the bedroom, slowing his steps at the last minute so he could just catwalk in. He got as far as the threshold.

“I see you took preparing yourself quite seriously,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Ren’s sweatpants were lying on the ground, and he was storking himself lazily, hooded eyes blazing as he grinned at Hux. It was a good look on him.

“Stay right where you are,” he asked. “God, this is just how I’ve wanted it— While you were away, I’d just, just do this, touch myself and imagine you’d walk in, look at me and see how much power you have over me. Are you real? Are you really here?”

“I’ve been away for, like, five minutes,” Hux sighed, but he noticed he sounded more fond than angry. He leant on the doorframe, legs crossed, letting his eyes rake over Ren. “How does the fantasy continue?”

“You tell me you’ve missed me,” Ren panted. “You tell me you couldn’t wait to come back to me—”

“I did miss you,” Hux admitted. Ren bit his lips, swallowing back a whimper. It was such a thrill to indulge him, to see how easy it was to make him like this. Hux tried to keep his composure for the sake of the game, but his body betrayed him. His briefs didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“You’re getting hard,” Ren noted. “I don’t even have to put my hands on you.”

“Is this also part of the fantasy, or is this in connection with my current state?”

Ren’s hips jerked. “Both. That’s the best part. That’s the— How could you wait so long?”

Hux wet his lips, and looked at him with something akin to sadness. “What’s the answer I give you when you imagine this conservation?”

“I want to hear what you really have to say.”

“I couldn’t,” Hux confessed, tone level. “It killed me, but I did it anyway.”

Ren’s lips trembled, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Hux snapped: “I swear to God if you come _now_ —!”

“No, I— ah fuck, c’mhere—”

Hux sighed, but obliged him, walking up to the bed as Ren drew his hand back. His throbbing cock was lying on his stomach, and Hux pondered how was he expected not to sit directly on it and ride it mercilessly, how was he supposed to resist. Ren grabbed his hips and pulled him closer, looking up at him with wonder. “Is this for me?” he asked, running his thumb over the briefs. Hux shuddered.

“Consider it a teaser. It’s far from the fanciest pair I own.”

“You’re such a perfect little cockslut,” Ren purred. Hux arched an eyebrow.

“Am I expected to deny it?”

“No, you take pride in it. You figured it out early, didn’t you?” He ran his hands up Hux’s torso. “How to get exactly what you want, just with this. You’ve been _clever_ about it. What do they say? ‘Everything is about sex except sex—’”

“‘Sex is about power,’” Hux finished for him, and settled over his lap. Ren kissed his chest, and grabbed the briefs.

“Can I tear these off of you?”

“What have they done to you?”

“They’re in the way,” Ren growled, and tugged at them. “Fuck, I want to just push right in—”

“Please don’t do that to my anus.”

“No, I won’t, I’ll be good to you.”

“My anus thanks you.”

“Don’t use the word anus in my bedroom ever again.”

“Anus,” Hux mouthed, and Ren fucking ripped his briefs in half. Hux threw his head back, laughing in delight, laughing wild, and yelped when Ren smacked his ass.

“Fetch us the lube,” Ren grunted, and thank everything it wasn’t far away. The label said _Invade Deep Fisting Cream Master Series_ in block letters, and Hux peered at Ren and held it up as incriminating evidence.

“No,” he said. _Not yet_ , he added in his head.

“It’s not that,” Ren explained, brows furrowed. “It’s a first time trick. I’m big and— well, yeah, I’m told it can be overwhelming. It has a desensitising formula so it won’t hurt, but you can still feel me.”

“How considerate,” Hux said, and screw the lid off. “Maybe next time I’ll just have a plug up my arse. Would you like that?”

“Oh yeah. Do you often—?”

“I love my arse being stuffed, so the answer is yes.” He offered the container to Ren, who scooped up a generous amount, and looked at Hux as he reached behind him. A thick finger easily slid in, like it was nothing, and Hux said, “ _Oh_.”

“Can we get messy?” Ren asked him, and Hux nodded. He wrapped his arms around Ren’s neck to better angle himself, sticking his arse out and pressing his cock to Ren’s hard abdomen. It was a curse they fit so well together. He knew neither of them would last very long. Ren grabbed two handfuls of his cheeks, and spread them, sliding the tip of both index fingers in. Hux cried out, and arched his back.

“Slower?” Ren whispered.

“Just...careful,” Hux panted.

Ren smirked, and pressed a kiss under his collarbone, then his lush lips brushed over his nipples, lavishing them with attention, sucking at one, then the other as his hands worked. Hux was starting to feel a pleasant numbness as Ren stretched him open, cautious as requested. Hux couldn’t help but start moving his hips, rubbing against Ren, gasping for air and moaning, unabashed. Ren pried his cheeks apart, and Hux felt his cock probing at the entrance. He pulled Ren’s hair in encouragement.

“Ready?” Ren asked him nevertheless. “Just a few inches.”

“Give it to me,” Hux urged, and Ren dipped his cock in. Hux almost screamed. It was new - feeling the pressure and the stretch, the wetness, but hardly anything else.

“Jesus fucking hell,” he panted.

“I think we’ll be good,” Ren smirked, and pulled out. “Have you ever been fucked mid-air?”

“As in on a plane?” The answer was yes.

“Held up or suspended while someone hammered into you.”

“Do sexswings count?”

“Not in this context,” Ren said, but he looked impressed.

Hux tried to catch his breath, and confessed: “Every so often, yes. If you count the sexswing, it’s very often. I have one in my flat.”

“Gotta give me a house tour one of these days,” Ren said, and manhandled Hux onto the mattress. He climbed over him and leant in for a kiss, and Hux just thought _yes_ , _anything_. Ren got a fat pillow, and put it under Hux’s waist. “Cozy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hold onto something.” Ren stood up on his knees, and hoisted Hux’s legs over one shoulder, pressing his ankles together with his hand. “How’s this?”

“Wouldn’t you rather have me spread my legs?”

“It’s better if your thighs touch.”

“Prove it,” Hux smiled at him, and fisted the sheet. Ren slipped in - slowly, inch by inch, and Hux’s lips parted for a soft gasp. The position was somewhat demanding, but he could already feel the benefits, especially as Ren’s cock brushed past his prostate. “Start moving,” he pleaded. Ren rolled his hips, making Hux cry out.

“This is how you deserve to be fucked,” Ren said, pressing a kiss to his ankle. “Deeply. Thoroughly. _Properly_.” He punctuated this with a sharp thrust, and Hux though he’d just black out. It was a bit like being drunk, getting intoxicated on the richest wine. He was still light-headed by his long travel, muscles sore, body tense, but as they rocked together, a numb sort of pleasure washed over him, easing him into bliss. He was never this calm and relaxed during sex; it was almost like a religious experience. Like meditation taking a rather unexpected turn.

“God, you feel amazing,” Ren praised.

Hux hummed contently, and started stroking his leaking cock, up and down as Ren watched. He looked mesmerised. It made Hux feel treasured and validated, which was something he always craved but never expected to get from such a simple action as getting fucked.

His orgasm built up gradually, first spreading over his groin and then shaking his whole body as he spilled over his belly. He didn’t even make a sound; it was just a sharp intake of air and then a soft exhale.

“That’s it,” Ren panted, speeding up the rhythm. Hux stretched his arms out, languid, and let his head loll to his shoulder. Ren huffed. “Look at you, already getting lazy. I’m still inside.”

“Then hurry up,” Hux shot back. Provoking Ren quickly became his new favourite activity, beside fucking Ren. The man pulled him closer, filling him completely, making Hux’s spent cock twitch. He gasped, and squeezed around Ren.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t be tighter,” Ren rasped.

“Are you complaining?”

“The opposite.”

“That’s what I thought,” Hux nodded, and, feeling generous, continued to squeeze and release, and managed to make Ren come very soon, milking him ‘til the last drop. Ren pulled out and collapsed on top of him, almost crushing him to death.

Not like Hux minded.

 

* * *

 

He felt very accomplished for managing to get to the bathroom amidst all the kisses and cuddling and clinging. They filled the porcelain tub to the brim, and Ren even got them two glasses of champagne, which he artfully placed on a tray within arm’s reach. Hux gulped down his share while Ren washed his back, and let him soap him up everywhere.

Then they were just snuggling in the tub, Hux nestled between Ren’s spread legs, resting his head on his shoulder. Ren was caressing his hair, which was loose and tangled from sex. And Hux was panicking. He felt like the moment was collapsing around him, that with every passing second, he was losing something, first the warmth of the scented water, then Ren’s reassuring presence, his fingers playing with the wet strands of his hair, and he just couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“What’s next?” he said, tone surprisingly even.

“I’ll probably fall asleep, but I can offer my body as a pillow,” Ren muttered.

“I mean after.”

“Mm. Gotta go to work in…five hours, but I’m totally down to breakfast in bed and driving you to the airport to say my sloppy goodbyes, and _after that_ ,” he raised his voice when Hux opened his mouth to interrupt, “after that, we’ll just figure it out. I can’t tell you what my future self will want, only thing I know is that one-month-from-now Kylo will still want _you_.”

“That’s not good enough,” Hux told him. He felt Ren tense, so he moved closer, rubbing his cheek against his neck. “I’m in deep shit for having come here. I can’t even imagine what’ll be left of the company when I get back.”

Ren snorted. “I’m pretty sure the First Order didn’t collapse overnight.”

“It _might have_ ,” Hux insisted. “For all our power and influence, we’re not like the Empire was, not yet. I need to do my job. I can’t just fuck off every so often. Next time I won’t be able to drop everything for you, do you understand?”

“But I never _asked_ that,” Ren objected, cupping his face. “We’re co-executives, I’m pretty sure we can work together.”

“I need to be in England,” Hux said, hating how weak he sounded. It wasn’t just the Order, it was his dying dad and his stubborn mentor who was unable to take her recent disability seriously, overtaxing herself still, and it was his cat who always got so confused and miserable in cat hotels. Hux hated leaving her there. It was always like this, for as long as he could remember, all the crushing responsibilities and—

“Then I’ll go to England,” Ren said. “Help you out.”

Hux took a shaky breath. He clasped Ren’s arm, pulling it tight across his chest. “You can’t,” he said. “Not very often, anyway.”

“As often as you need me,” Ren promised. Hux pressed back against him.

“We have to be smart about it,” he said, watching their entangled feet under the water. How silly it was to allow this to happen. But fuck that. “We can’t attract attention. We must keep it a secret. We must make a plan.”

“You can’t plan for things which haven’t happened yet.”

“Yes, you can. That’s the definition of planning.”

“I mean, we might get away with it,” Ren told him. “Seeing each other every two weeks or— okay, maybe every month, but...fuck, I see the risks, okay? But it’ll work because we’ll make it work, between you and me and between London and New York City. It won’t be easy but we’ll do it because we—are very fond of each other.”

Hux looked up at him. From this angle, he couldn’t see much. His lips brushed against Ren’s ear as he asked, “Do you think you’re in love with me?”

“Yes,” Ren said with much more confidence than Hux expected.

“Why?”

“There’s no why, that’s what love is _about_. It happens. It happens before you can find a reason or an explanation for it. Does it scare you?”

“The idea of love, or you saying that you love me?”

“They’re kinda…connected.”

Hux considered it, then turned away, taking in their surroundings, the clean marble surfaces and the beautiful orchids.

“They don’t scare me,” he said. “I just feel sorry for you. Wearing your heart on your sleeve means others will know where to stick their pins.”

“Pretending you don’t have a heart isn’t any better. What happens when they believe you?”

Hux was silent for a long moment. “I couldn’t trick you,” he replied, “could I?”

 

* * *

 

Four in the morning found Hux still awake, restless and energetic in Ren’s embrace. After some tossing and turning, he slipped free, heart heavy as he looked back at Ren. He couldn’t resist brushing his hair with his fingers, rearranging the perfect locks. He touched his lips, the softest caress, then pulled his hand back.

He walked into the living room naked as the day he was born, basking in the lavender light of the awakening city. He felt safe here, the floor creaking under his bare feet. He got his glasses and his Macbook from his laptop bag, and curled up in a leather chair facing the river. He imagined Ren finding him like this in the morning, and it sent a thrill up his spine. He was starting to feel a bit sore from fucking, in the best way. Admiring the glinting buildings as the Macbook powered on he could believe that he might be able to stay.

He opened his overflowing inbox, sorting through the messages, most of them forwarded to him by secretary Thanisson as instructed. There was one which made him stop.

 

_I’m at your office. I’m told you’re not here. How curious. - S.L. Snoke_

 

It made his blood run cold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warnings** : emotional manipulation from both sides / Kylo takes out Hux's contact lenses for him / passing mention of fisting / derogatory expressions used for dirty talk
> 
> Heart on your sleeves [moodboard](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/160013363301/wearing-your-heart-on-your-sleeve-means-others)
> 
> [Gefionne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne) continues to kick ass (my bad grammar's ass, to be precise)


	4. His Strong Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 of the Suit Porn AU, in which business people are arguing in closed places while wearing suits, and there is so much sexual tension the building almost catches on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick recap on part 3 Death of a Bachelor: Hux visited Ren in NYC, there was sleepy suit smut, tears of gratitude, chilling in a bathtub and love confessions; four in the morning, Hux got a message from Chairman Snoke, demanding to know why he wasn't in his London office.

 

Dear R.,

Please know that I very much regret leaving in such a hurry; sadly, I had no other choice but to bolt. I was contacted by CH Snoke, and whereas he wouldn’t go into details over the phone, he made it very clear that I was needed in London ASAP. I fear the worst. I didn’t want to wake you; you’ll have a long day, as will I, & you’ll need to be sufficiently rested to face the Resistance, whom I suspect to be involved in the (as of yet) unclarified disaster which befell the First Order while I was away. You’ll find my tie pin attached to this letter. Please keep it, and don’t think badly of me.

Yours,

A. H.

 

* * *

 

Own nr: Please confirm that you got my letter

Own nr: I left it on my pillow

Own nr: *the pillow

Own nr: *on which I’ve slept

Own nr: Safely arrived to London, in case you were wondering

Own nr: You must’ve been contacted by Snoke by now. Please advise on the situation. This is a professional request.

Own nr: A personal request would be to answer your fucking phone

Own nr: Listen, I’m sorry, okay?

Own nr: Me again. I really need you.

Own nr: Was the tie pin too much?

Own nr: Stick it up your arse you minging fucking wanker, see if I care. The First Order is falling apart and you’re busy being a dickhead.

 

* * *

 

**From** : Kylo Ren (kylo_ren88@hotmail.com)

**To** : Armitage Hux (a.hux@firstorder.co.uk)

**Subject** : hi

phone not operational. on my way to London.

love,

kylo

 

* * *

 

**From** : Armitage Hux (a.hux@gmail.com)

**To** : Kylo Ren (kylo_ren88@hotmail.com)

**Subject** : ???

I have so many questions.

  1. Why is it “not operational?” Why didn’t you get a new one?
  2. Why did you feel the need to contact me on my official address? Did WikiLeaks teach you nothing?
  3. Why is there an “88” in your address? Just how many Kylo Rens are out there?
  4. Why don’t you use Gmail? Why do you hate yourself?
  5. Are you angry with me?
  6. When shall I pick you up?



Everything is a shambles. Snoke cannot be reached/bothered. I need your help. Rather badly.

Affectionately yours,  
A. H.

 

* * *

 

**From** : Kylo Ren (kylo_ren88@hotmail.com)

**To** : Armitage Hux (a.hux@gmail.com)

**Subject** : Re: ???

  1. I broke it
  2. this was the quickest way to reach you
  3. previous private address was compromised (not by the FBI/Russia)
  4. google sucks // too many reasons to list
  5. no not anymore. it was not your fault. could’ve woken me up tho.
  6. can’t meet at the airport :( sorry!



no time to talk now. S. is arranging an SOS meeting. I think you’re invited. can’t wait to see you again.

love,

Kylo

p.s. thank you for yesterday. can’t stop thinking about it. want you so bad. want you now.

 

* * *

 

**From** : Armitage Hux (a.hux@gmail.com)

**To** : Kylo Ren (kylo_ren88@hotmail.com)

**Subject** : URGENT

I still think it’d be advisable to conceal our involvement in the presence of our superior, not to mention our fellow colleagues, who might use the information for intrigue. In a dire time such as this, unprofessionalism won’t be forgiven, and I don’t know anymore who is to be trusted. I think it’d be for the best if we pretended that we still cannot stand each other.

Thank you for understanding,  
A.H.

p.s.: You fucked me so well last night. Just thinking about it makes me so hard and makes me want to start stroking my cock here and now, which would be unfortunate since I’m at a meeting, as one would expect - so I shall stop messaging you now and sit cross-legged.

 

* * *

 

Hux hurried through the bright corridors, then he remembered that Thanisson was wearing a binder, and slowed his steps. His secretary caught up with him, out of breath and very pale. He had the same dumbfounded expression which had fixed itself on everybody’s faces since they learnt about Finn disappearing with a pendrive’s worth of sensitive and damaging intel about the Order, enough to destroy them.

Hux’s nose twitched as he came to a halt at the entrance of Conference Room F. Thanisson lept to open the door for him, and he marched in, head held high. The room was a brutalist bravado, glass and steel and stone. It was home. He never left this room defeated.

He glanced around for Ren, squinting in the sunlight pouring in. People were standing around in small groups, nobody daring to take a seat yet; Hux noticed Mitaka with his wife and a few Americans dressed in black ( _the other Rens_ , as he came to call them), but there was no sign of Kylo. His heart sank.

“Good day,” he greeted everybody. Mitaka at least looked relieved to see him. Hux contemplated coming up to him and initiating small talk, nod at the expressions of horror and shock: _one of our own, who would’ve thought, an intern of all things, was Dameron involved?_

Before he could make a move, the door opened again. Snoke strutted in, looming and visibly pissed, closely followed by his army of bodyguards, which seemed to include Ren. The rest of the world blurred out, and Hux had to bite on his lips so he wouldn’t smile at him. Joy bubbled up in him, almost overflowing; it was so _reassuring_ to have Ren around, like he could single-handedly solve any and all issues. Also, he looked fucking gorgeous in his black suit and grey dress shirt, hair perfect as ever, tie pin in place. He looked at Hux and his eyes warmed, and it was—not good.

“Gentlemen, I believe you’ve met,” Snoke said, and Ren extended his hand with a confident smirk.

“How do you do?”

“How do you do,” Hux murmured, as dismissive as he could get, and dropped Ren’s hand after a firm shake (remembering how that hand roamed over his body). Ren looked genuinely offended, and Hux started wondering whether he had the time to read the latest e-mail. Snoke’s entourage pretty much swept him aside, and he was still confused and worried when he took his seat.

Ren was sitting next to Snoke, not particularly looking at anywhere, brows furrowed. Hux tried not to stare, looking around the room, assessing his chances.

_Personal matters shall wait for now_ , he said to himself; his inner voice sounded a bit like his father. _Crush the Resistance; you’re the only one who can do that. Ren is only here to help. The Mitakas are only here to assist. Thanisson is here to provide me with tea. Hell knows why the other Rens are here._

“Good afternoon and welcome,” Mitaka rose to speak, holding his tablet like a shield. “My name is Dopheld Mitaka and I am the International Chief Operations Officer of the First Order. Here with us today are Chairman S.L. Snoke, Chief Executive Officer of the British Firm Armitage Hux, Chief Executive Officer of the Japanese Firm Himari Mitaka, and Chief Executive Officer of the North-American Firm Kylo Ren…”

Putting Kylo last was a mistake. Hux chanced a glance at him. Kylo sat with his head tilted, looking like he was ignoring everybody, lush lips pressed to a pout. Hux’s gaze lingered a second too long, and as he looked away, Snoke caught his eyes with his icy stare. Hux levelled him calmly, swearing that he shall never, ever look at Ren, not even in private, not even during sex; and he should really not think about sex with Ren while Snoke was present, because Snoke always looked like he could read his mind and was vaguely disgusted by what he found.

“Before we begin, I would like to take a moment to review some safety information,” Mitaka sputtered on. “There is an exit directly behind you and a second one to my right at the front…”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you,” Snoke interrupted, finally turning his unblinking gaze away from Hux, who allowed himself an ugly frown. Mitaka opened his mouth as if to wish Snoke a pleasant death by fire, but then he just bowed his head and collapsed into his chair. His wife leant in to whisper something to him; Mitaka smiled, faintly, and Hux was never so jealous in his entire life. If only he and Ren— Snoke interrupted his train of thought: “We’re having an unusual meeting today. Let me break protocol and get right to the issue: as many of you may have already been notified, we’ve been compromised by the Resistance. Some of you know the details; some of you don’t. Secrecy was necessary. I’m afraid some of you might have been wiretapped.”

Hux made a mental note, _no more sexting_ , then added, _shit._

“For this reason,” Snoke continued, voice cold, “I ask you not to take notes. Nothing can leave this room.”

“Are we talking about a security breach?” The CTO interrupted, and Snoke levelled her with a gaze which would make a lesser woman want to resign on the spot.

“We are talking about the _possibility_ of a security breach. This is what we know for sure: yesterday one of our interns disappeared with a pendrive that contains sensitive information about the First Order. I can confirm that he was aided by Poe Dameron.”

“Which one of them stole the pendrive, the journalist or the intern?” Ren asked, comfortably spread out in his chair. God, the way he could sit.

“Dameron was in possession of the pendrive when we lost track of him,” Snoke clarified, and Ren nodded. He tapped his fingers to his chin.

“Dameron must’ve gotten wind of it from Sekka.”

Snoke spread his arms. “Sadly, it is history.”

“No, it’s important; this is how we’ll catch them, tracing back the—”

“If you’re quite finished with your detective work, Mr. Ren,” Hux snapped, “then maybe Chairman Snoke can go on with his briefing, thank you.”

He hated the pained expression on Ren’s face; he looked betrayed, then just angry. Hux silently prayed _hold that thought, please hold it, you’re onto something, it’s vital to establish the link between Dameron and Finn, that’s clever_ —

“Patience,” Snoke warned him, and straightened up. Hux could admit that he looked threatening when he wanted to, but Hux was not so easy to scare. “However they got it, the pendrive is in their possession. If they access the information on it, they will know everything there is to know about the TIE-pipeline, our pollution rates, the 2015 fuel tank fiasco, ah, not to mention our little subprime mortgage debt and the ever-rising income inequality.”

“So basically everything,” the Chief Marketing Officer said, and Snoke curtly nodded.

“They don’t just have dirt on us,” Ren grumbled. “They have the whole fucking swamp.”

“Only if they break the code,” Hux reminded them all. “The pendrive is encrypted. That should give us some time to establish a strategy.”

Snoke considered it for a moment, drumming his fingers on the chair’s armrest, then he glanced at Mitaka. “Please share what you’ve discovered.”

Mitaka swallowed audibly, and as his wife gently nudged him, he blurted out, “They— Dameron and the intern—they were accompanied by a girl, sir.”

Ren’s head shot up. “What girl?”

“I’m afraid, uh, your cousin, sir,” Mitaka stammered, and winced as Ren jumped to his feet. He hit the table with his fists so hard that his paper cup almost spilled over, and Snoke’s fountain pen rolled and dropped to the ground.

“If Rey’s on the case, we’re fucking fucked!” Ren yelled, and grabbed the cup. Hux watched in disbelief as he threw it against the glass wall, screaming. It was the Ren he never wanted to see. Everyone was sitting straight, pretending there was nothing peculiar about a berserk CEO—or maybe they were used to it, which was a terrifying thought.

“Calm down. Jesus,” Hux snarled, and he managed to put some venom into it, but above everything, he was just bloody sorry. Ren’s despair, humiliation, and anger felt like his own— even the righteousness—and he wished it was just the two of them, so he could gather Ren into his arms and whisper promises into his hair: _we’ll get them_. Ren pointed an accusing finger at him, and Hux was convinced it was no longer a game.

“They’ll bring it to Maz,” Ren spat, “and you can shove your sense of security up your ass then, because Maz will have all of her hackers, _including herself_ , all over the pendrive—”

“The encryption software was developed by Mr. Mandetat,” Mitaka chirped, “our most excellent—”

“Let me fucking finish!” Ren shouted.

Himari Mitaka levelled him with her gaze, calmly saying: “You will address my husband with respect, or you won’t address him at all, Mr. Ren.”

Ren looked like a wounded beast. Hux hated himself for wondering whether his reference to shoving intangible concepts up Hux’s ass was code that they were still good, that this tantrum was all for show. He refused to panic over the fate of the company if Ren was this scared, because it meant that he’d have to be the strong one, for both of them.

“Maz won’t be able to break the encryption,” Ren said low and slow, taking a hold of the table’s edge. “There’s no masterkey, no nothing. They will realise it soon enough. And when that happens, they’ll bring it to the only man on his planet who can still help them—”

“Luke Skywalker,” Snoke finished. They shared a meaningful glance with Ren.

“Luke Skywalker has vanished,” Hux commented, uselessly, not even sure what his strategy was anymore. _Solve this, solve this. At what cost?_

“You shan’t dismiss somebody who is single-handedly responsible for the collapse of the Empire, young Hux.” Snoke signalled Ren to take a seat, and he did so, reluctantly, like he wasn’t sure he could control his body. Hux looked at the wreck of him, how sullen and ashamed he seemed. His gaze travelled down to the tie pin, and he made his decision.

“Before they make their move, whatever that might be,” he proposed, “we shall destroy the company that supports them: Hosnian Prime. Without their friends to protect them, the Resistance will be vulnerable, and we will stop them before they reach Skywalker.”

He could feel all eyes on him, burning into his bones. Ren’s eyebrows arched up, probably in mock-surprise, while the Human Resources Officer looked something close to genuinely appalled. It was Himari Mitaka who spoke first.

“With all due respect, are you convinced that this is the right time to make such a…dubious move?”

“I believe it is necessary,” Hux said. He didn’t mention that he considered digging up dirt on Hosnian Prime his life’s work. It was an in-case-of-emergency solution, a sign of his foresight, something which made him swell with pride.

“It is _the_ single largest charity organisation in the States,” Himari Mitaka explained, gesticulating with her pen. “If we make it collapse overnight, it won’t be only Hosnian Prime that shuts down, but the whole Hosnian System.”

“Yes.”

“Homeless shelters,” Himari Mitaka listed, “children’s hospitals, elderly homes, even their _libraries,_ and the Translator’s Visa Fund and the Dialysis Programme; are you sure you want our company to be associated with putting an end to all these things?”

“I can assure you that we’ll remain anonymous and untouchable,” Hux said. “Besides, they are hardly the only charity in the world. Those in need can and should turn to other places.”

“We’re talking about thousands of people,” the Human Resources Officer chimed in, “whose lives you’ll put into jeopardy.”

“Just until the transitional period is over,” Hux corrected. He met Snoke’s glance. He didn’t like that he looked pleased. The Hosnian initiative was not about him.

“What do you have?” Snoke asked.

“Without revealing sensitive information, Hosnian Prime had its fair share of Ponzi schemes and additional warranties.” He turned to the Human Resources Officer, eyebrows arched. “Hosnian Prime is cheating their funders out of their money,” he explained like he was talking to a dim child. “On an immense scale.”

“Corruption doesn’t make businesses fall,” Himari Mitaka noted, and Hux smiled.

“No, it doesn’t. Scandals do.”

“You’re an expert on that,” Himari Mitaka admitted, and bowed her head. Hux bowed back, and looked around as he straightened up. The HR guy didn’t seem convinced, but there was a sort of expectant buzz in the air. This was his chance. He glanced at Ren, who scowled, and then met the eyes of every single member of the board, including the hovering secretaries.

“You all know the saying: give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach him how to fish and he’ll prosper.” He touched his fingers to each other, forming a triangle. “Hosnian Prime doesn’t think about the future; neither does the Resistance, and their particular brand of environmentalism. The latter would rush matters, demanding change _now_ at whatever cost; Hosnian Prime is happy with the status quo. Both of them are wrong. Only the First Order has the power to implement significant change.

“We don’t give shelter to the homeless: we thrive to obliterate unemployment. We are searching for the cures of the maladies the children in Hosnian Prime’s care have to live with. We will fix health-care, once and for all, we will make it free and universal. We are going to stop the raging wars; we are going to fight back climate change; we will expand our knowledge; we will reach for the stars; we will go forward, and nobody— _nobody—_ will be left behind.

“To be able to accomplish all our glorious goals, we must re-establish the wealth and the influence of the Empire, and yes, we will get our hands dirty in the process. We will grow filthy rich on oil; we will pluck the last rotting fruits of capitalism; we will be at the top of their game—only to end it. Crushing Hosnian Prime brings us a step closer to a future of equality and prosperity, of long-due peace.” He took a deep breath. “So I suggest we take this step.”

He might’ve revealed too much, but he didn’t mind if it earned him the acclaim he craved, the clapping and the cheers. He was shaken, his own voice still ringing in his ears, visions of greatness so close he felt he could just reach for them.

Snoke wasn’t amused, and neither was Ren, who had a stony expression on, hard and unreadable. Mitaka was moved near to tears, and the HR guy looked contemplative as the applause died down. Winning was always about the small victories. Hux adjusted his tie, remembering to look humble and approachable, as a good leader should. Ren tilted his head.

“Rousing speech,” he said, “I’ll give you that, but if we don’t solve the issue at hand and find that fucking pendrive, you can start drafting your plea for the hearing. Can you answer one simple question?”

“Try me,” Hux spat. It sounded like _bite me_. Ren leant forward on his elbows.

“You knew that the intern was contacted by the Resistance,” Ren said. “You knew he listened to their let's-save-Mother-Earth bullshit and was preparing to leave the company.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you let him?”

Hux frowned. “Are you holding me accountable for only wanting to work with people committed to our causes? He had started the process of resignation, and was supervised by our HR officer, Miss Phasma. It is a standard procedure; a kind of reconditioning, if you will, which guarantees that the ones leaving our company will do it no harm and will be legally bound to—”

“That’s not what happened,” Ren interrupted. “The opposite has happened.”

“It is an unusual case; there is no denying that. I am shocked, but confident that we’ll be able to resolve the matter.” He sounded too gentle, so he threw in a patronizing, ugly smile. Ren scoffed.

“Young Hux will be investigated,” Snoke said. Hux had nearly forgotten that he was there, and that he was an asshole. “As for now, I want Hux to stay put and go through the attack against Hosnian Prime. Ren, you shall travel to Guatemala and acquire the pendrive. Mrs. Mitaka, you’ll be working on a plan to protect our integrity, should Dameron publish any damaging information. We will discuss it further, in private.

“I demand the board to stay in their offices during office hours.” He gave a sharp look to Hux at that, then turned away. “I expect all of you to be alert. As you know now, the situation is dire. We have another meeting scheduled later this evening, seven PM sharp. For now, you’re dismissed.” Snoke rose to his feet, and they all did the same. Snoke used this moment to turn to Ren, and mutter loud enough that all of them heard: “Clean up your mess.”

It occurred to Hux then that Ren might’ve thrown his cup against the wall on purpose. The suspicion made anything else meaningless, even his pressing desire to break every bone in Snoke’s body. He said his goodbyes and accepted compliments and good luck wishes in sort of a haze, waiting for the room to empty out. Ren left shortly after Snoke, probably to find some kitchen towels. He left his messenger bag behind. Hux lingered, waiting until it was just Thanisson and him, and then forced a non-threatening smile onto his face.

“Could you do something for me?” he asked Thanisson, who nodded immediately, the good Boy Scout he was. “Please get a Mayfair bouquet from Wildabout and a bottle of single malt Glenfiddich from Harrods, and deliver them to Miss Sloane in person. Tell her that I’ll bother her this evening. Don’t forget to compliment her dog. If it’s not in sight, use the picture hanging above the mirror for reference. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. When shall she expect your call?”

“She’ll tell you when I’m _allowed_ to call.” He handed over his wallet. “Use it wisely, and take fifty for your trouble.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“No rush,” Hux said, and watched him go, pretending to be very occupied with satchel. His heart was beating in his throat. Ren will be back soon; how much time would they have? Five minutes? Ten? A good hour? In any case, he was prepared to make the most of it; to console Ren and explain everything, to ease his anxiety and help come up with a plan, if requested.

He couldn’t stop touching his hair, a vain little attempt to make it look invitingly tousled. He dropped his hand when the door opened, and turned slowly. Ren was standing there with a roll of kitchen towels and some sort of spray cleaner. One glance at his darling, troubled face was enough to make Hux rush to him, silently cursing. He pretty much swooned into his arms, boneless, like it was a trust fall. Ren pulled him close, burying his face in his neck.

“Finally,” he growled. Hux could’ve sobbed with gratitude; just to be able to touch him; it was everything. Ren was squeezing him too hard, but he didn’t mind. “Fuck, Armitage, you’re so hot when you hate me.”

“Shut up. Did you get my e-mail?”

“Oh yeah.” Ren pressed a kiss to his neck, his chin, and then his lips. Hux let out a very undignified sound, something between a moan and a mewl. Ren gathered him up into his arms, dropping the cleaning supplies. Hux held on, hugging his neck, and bracketing his hips with his legs, feeling like they could stay like this forever. That was not the case.

“How much time do we have?”

Ren groaned. “Couple of minutes? Snoke is really mad, I gotta—and Guatemala— fuck, you’re not wearing underwear, are you?”

“I’m wearing underwear.”

“Liar,” Ren breathed, and grabbed a handful of his ass. Hux gasped, embarrassed how little it took to make him this aroused, but it was Ren, with his fucking hair and delicious smell and those eyes and hands and— And he was kneading his ass. “No underwear here.”

“It’s an open back design,” Hux confessed, face turning red. Ren teased his fingers up, and grinned.

“Is this a little bow here?”

“I was expecting you.”

“Can I see it?”

“In the middle of a conference room?”

“And if I say pretty please?” Ren taunted, and eased him down on a table. Hux nodded, flustered. It was too easy to pretend that they were still in New York, that they had no other pressing matters to attend to, that the single most important thing in the universe was touching each other. Ren manhandled him so he was bent over the same table he had sat behind at the meeting, proposing ideas which had the power to change the world, and now he was here, and Ren was on his knees.

“Quick,” Hux pleaded. Ren pulled his slacks down to his knees, and sighed, satisfied.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, palming Hux’s exposed buttocks. “The most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, look at you. You wanted this, huh?”

“I wanted it in the privacy of my bedroom.”

“Should I take you back?” Ren asked, and gently bit his left cheek. Hux sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth.

“Doesn’t matter now. We don’t have the time— please leave a mark?”

Ren purred, and bit down again. Hux’s short nails scratched the surface of the table.

“Tell me about your apartment,” Ren murmured.

“My, ah, apartment?” His hips bucked. Ren lapped at the bruise, tongue hot and wet, then nipped at it.

“So I can picture what will it be like when I visit you.”

“Mm, well, my door is—red, with a gold knob, and— Do you even know my address?”

“Yes. Don’t be upset.”

“At this point, I’m impressed, stalker of stalkers.” Ren hummed at that, and slid a finger between Hux’s cheeks. “Don’t put it in.”

“I won’t. I’m watching the door, don’t worry. We won’t get caught. Tell me about your little home.”

Hux tried to collect his thoughts as Ren’s index finger circled his entrance.

“It’s a Scandinavian design, very minimal. Mostly black and white, some red, it’s, uh, the place I always dreamt I would— Christ Ren I’ve slept with men with smaller dicks than your finger, what the hell—”

“Tell me about your bed, how they fucked you in it.”

“Don’t be stupid, I conduct the majority of affairs in hotels, preferably The Ritz or Claridge's, I’m not—” A choked-off moan followed. Ren pulled his hand back.

“Yet you would let me in.”

“I’ve already let you in,” Hux said. Ren stood up, and pulled him close, hands flat on his stomach, rubbing his clothed crotch against Hux’s poor excuse for panties. He was so fucking hard. “You’ll fuck me in that narrow bed as soon as you get back, you hear me? You’ll fuck my poor little hole until I’m sore, and then some more, you— Fuck, the way you looked at me today, like you didn’t _care_ —”

“I do, I do, I do.” Ren punctuated every word with a sharp thrust, and Hux wondered whether it was possible to come from non-penetrative, dry anal, or whatever the hell it was, because he was too close.

“What do you think about the Hosnian plan?” he asked in a breathless voice he hardly recognised as his own. Ren cupped his cock, and his eyes rolled back.

“What do you want me to say?” Ren whispered, toying with his trapped cock and humping him. Maybe it should’ve been humiliating; Hux couldn’t think of anyone else he’d allow to do this, not here, not like this.

“I want you to tell me what you think about the Hosnian plan, because I value your opinion,” he panted. Ren grabbed his junk and squeezed, rubbing it through the lace.

“I think it’s our best chance at winning.”

“And?”

“And you explained very well why we’ve gotta win.”

Hux wet his lips, planning to say something, but Ren froze mid-thrust and yanked Hux’s slacks up. He danced away, and Hux had just enough time to straighten up, dizzy and ecstatic; someone in heels passed the room, but didn’t come in.

“Close call,” Ren commented, and he looked ready to jump back on Hux, but Hux put a hand against his chest to stop him.

“Too close. When will I see you?”

“When I get back.” Ren clasped Hux’s hand in his. “As soon as—”

“Don’t contact me. You heard Snoke, might not be safe, but...do come, any time. I’ll be expecting you.”

Ren brought Hux’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. It was becoming a habit, it seemed. Hux watched his eyelashes flutter. He could spend years just observing him, just listening to his voice and reveling in his touches, but they had jobs to do, and their jobs included creating a sort of world in which it was possible to be together. This one didn’t seem to favour them. Ren’s phone chimed, and he made a face as he stepped back.

“It’s gonna be Snoke. Gotta go. Thank you for the pin, for everything. I—”

“Yeah,” Hux said. Ren leant in for a goodbye kiss. It was brief, dry and chaste, and then Ren had to answer his phone. He grimaced at Hux as he pressed the iPhone to his ears, singing “On my way,” and he just walked away. Hux felt his heart stutter as the door closed behind Ren, who left the room as if nothing had happened between them.

He got hold of the table’s edge and closed his eyes; he could still feel Ren’s bitemark, his heat, his smell, his kiss, and he had to remind himself that it was real, unlike their little charade. He blinked his eyes open after a few trembling breaths, and noticed the kitchen towels on the floor.

The fucker didn’t even clean up.

He got the spray foam and walked to the coffee splattered on the glass wall. He spritzed some foam onto it, feeling dead inside, and wiped it off with a kitchen towel.

_The First Order comes first_ , he thought. _What did papa use to say,_ " _that’s why it’s called the_ First _Order."_ _There’ll be sacrifices and rewards, and there’ll be time, and...and._

Ren was part of the First Order. He was everything Hux loved or found worthy of interest. Hux put his forehead against the wall, just for a moment.

_He’ll come back. He’ll come back to me, to me, to me. By the time he does, the world will be forever changed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: everybody is a villain in that fucking board room


	5. A Certain Level of Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 of the Suit Porn AU, in which Hux has become death, destroyer of worlds. He also needs a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Recap:** Finn and Poe stole an encrypted pendrive containing sensitive information. In response, Hux proposed the destruction of Hosnian Prime, who are secretly funding the Resistance, an American environmental activist organisation who really want to kick the ass of First Order Corps. Following orders from chairman Snoke, Ren travelled to Guatemala to stop his cousin Rey and her friends before they reach Maz, or even worse, get in touch with Luke Skywalker.
> 
> Please refer to the end notes for **content warnings**

 

 “When?” Sloane asked.

“When the sun sets,” Hux told her. “Approximately.”

“Huh. Poetic.”

“Mm.”

They were sitting on Sloane’s verandah, sipping on dry martinis. Her backyard had a no-nonsense charm about it, with neat beds of delphiniums, hollyhocks and viburnum, and young trees catching the red rays of the sleepy sun. Hux had spent many a summer here in his youth, reading on the wire bench or weeding or just _being_ , drinking up its tranquility. They were watching Sloane’s ugly little English bulldog rolling around on the grass, and Hux thought, _This is home;_ _after everything, this is still home_.

Sloane fished out the olive from her drink, and popped it into her mouth.

“Good job,” she said, impassioned, but Hux felt his cheeks heat up nevertheless. He adjusted his collar.

“Well, I’m just doing my job.”

Sloane dropped the toothpick back into her empty glass. “Be a darling and get me another one.”

Hux set his half-finished drink aside, and got Sloane’s glass. He toed off his shoes and walked back into the house. It was two days after the board meeting, and he was grateful that Sloane agreed to see him. No word from Ren; but no word from the Resistance either, which was certainly a good sign. And then again, he had asked Ren not to contact him, didn’t he? Nevertheless, he checked his phone on his way to the kitchen: reports from his team, Operation Hosnian Prime underway. No I-miss-yous or even a dickpic from a certain somebody. Not like he couldn’t survive a few days without spreading his legs for him, or at least talking about it, talking about how much he wanted— Just to celebrate;he _deserved_ it. He—

He made a martini for Sloane and went back to the garden.

“Bless you,” Sloane croaked, and put the glass to her lips as Hux collapsed into his chair. He fumbled for a cigarette, managed to light it on the third try, and swallowed down the smoke.

“Look at you.” Sloane nudged his chair with her wheelchair. “Being all mopey on the happiest day of your life.”

“Is this the happiest day of my life?” he asked, but straightened his back to look respectfully morose.

“Well, it’s a major blow for the Resistance.” They both glanced at the sun, and then back to each other. Sloane squinted. “Spit it out.”

“What?”

“Is it about a boy? The one who makes you giggle at your phone?”

Hux scoffed. “I never _giggled_.” He took a drag from his cigarette. “I’m not a teenager.”

“So it _is_ about a boy,” Sloane concluded, nodding sharply. “You and your boys, huh.”

“It’s not like that.”

He got a hard look. “Who is he.” It wasn’t a question.

He wiggled around a bit, trying to get comfortable. It was impossible. He narrowed his eyes at the bleeding horizon, and let the smoke drift from his lips.

“Kylo Ren.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I’m seeing Kylo Ren?” He didn’t dare to look at Sloane. He could feel her gaze boring into him, took a quick drag, and coughed.

“Kylo Ren,” Sloane repeated in a tone he hardly ever heard from her.

“I know.”

“Kylo Ren. You’re dating a Skywalker.”

“I’m not— He’s not a Skywalker any longer; he has denied his family.”

“A loving family from good circumstances. Imagine what someone capable of that kind of betrayal could do to you.”

The smoke soured in Hux’s mouth. He reached for his martini and gulped it down in one go.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” Sloane assured him when Hux put his glass back to the table with a bit too much force. He frowned.

“I know you aren’t.”

“Notwithstanding, you cannot dismiss his heritage just like that.” Sloane snapped her fingers, then pointed at Hux. “Padmé Naberrie.”

“Here we go.”

“That woman—”

“Could’ve ended the Empire by herself and put everybody behind bars,” Hux finished. “I know. If it was up to her, the First Order would have never been founded.”

“But that’s not how it played out,” Sloane said, curling her fingers into a fist. “No, because Luke Skywalker went up to Daddy all teary-eyed before Naberrie could start the lawsuit, and Daddy just couldn’t say no to him.”

“I admit that Luke Skywalker is a threat.” Hux gesticulated with his cigarette, getting ash on his trousers. “I do. But he’s not _threatening_ everybody. There’s a difference. He has the _potential_ of a threat, but he hasn’t done anything in what, thirty years?”

“What about his sister?” Sloane asked.

Hux let his head loll back. “What about her?”

“You’ve met her. How would you describe the experience?”

Hux noticed some cobwebs hanging from the verandah’s pickets. Bugger. He’d have to clean them.

“She’s a force of nature.”

“Astute observation. She’s your most dangerous rival. And you’re doing the hibbety-dibbety with her son. That’s not very smart.”

Hux raised his eyebrows at her. “Ren is on our side now, and his insight into his former family’s dynamics will be invaluable to retrieve the pendrive and prevent future atrocities.”

Sloane’s face twitched. “You don’t have to justify it to _me_. I’m just advising you to be careful.” She raised her glass in a salute, and swallowed down the last drops. Hux rolled his eyes, a small, nervous smile on his lips, and turned back to the garden. The sun was setting.

*

The next morning found him in his frequented gym. He didn’t sleep much; the gloating glory of Hosnian Prime’s destruction caught up with him just before he went to bed, but then, as he tossed and turned, he started feeling hollowed-out and gutted. He couldn’t imagine what was next, and that was not something he experienced often. He always had a plan, but now he had taken such a big step that he found himself on an entirely foreign field.

He hung his pressed suit in the locker reserved for posh people with platinum memberships, and started putting on his pink shorty-shorts. He kept wondering about his father. Should he share his plans with him? He was retired; he had no business knowing anything about top-secret First Order operations. But then again, Sloane was retired as well, so that was not fair. If his father learned the news of Hosnian Prime’s ugly fate from the clinic’s telly, he’ll give Hux hell; but what’s new. If he found out that Sloane knew before him, he won’t talk with Hux for a week; that might actually be a relief.

Except if he dies during that week.

Hux put on a loose shirt, twitching the hem absent-mindedly, mind suddenly blank. He longed to discuss it with Ren. He wasn’t sure he would be able to open up like that, but he knew Ren would listen. He’d understand.

Thinking about Ren was incomparably better than thinking about his dying father’s fury or how he seemed to fail Sloane’s test, so he forced himself to do that. He adjusted his legwarmers, and imagined Ren fighting his way through the Guatemalan jungle, following a trail to Tikal, machete in hand. That was _probably_ not what Ren was doing in Guatemala, but the daydream still suited him. Maybe he’d lose his shirt somehow. That’d be nice. Very nice indeed. A half-naked Ren fighting the wilderness, sweat dripping down his broad back.

Properly distracted, Hux stumbled to his feet, tossed his phone into his bum bag, and headed out. He caught sight of himself as he passed the locker room’s enormous mirror, and halted. Well, damn. He looked ready to collapse, skin ashen, but at least his hair was perfect. He looked like a decent corpse; that was certainly an accomplishment. He unabashedly checked out his ass. He pulled up the hem of the short a bit, and there it was, the bitemark Ren had left, a beautiful yellow. His lips twitched into a tired smile. He got his phone without thinking much about it, and angled himself to get a good shot. He heard the door open, but it was too late.

“Are you photographing your arse? Bloody hell,” Phasma barked, waving her gym bag around. Hux pulled a face, but decided he won’t show any remorse.

“It’s for my autobiography,” he mumbled, and took the photo. “Pre-order now.”

“You’re doing it wrong— Give it here, geez.” Phasma dropped her bag to the ground, and strode up to Hux. He handed over his phone, not looking at her. Phasma did a once-over.

“I was waiting for you, you know. Down the hall? Six-zero-zero?”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Thought you were getting sick up here or something.” She frowned at the phone’s screen, and then glanced back to Hux. “Spread your legs a bit and lean forward slightly.”

“I feel like this is the beginning of a new chapter in our friendship,” Hux commented as he obliged. He heard Phasma snap a picture, then another.

“Who’s it for anyway? Stay like that.”

“Mm, I won’t send it to him, I think. I’m saving it for later.”

“How come?” Phasma took a final picture, and gave the phone back.

“Much obliged,” Hux nodded, and leant against the mirror, scrolling through the photos. They were agreeable. He really needed to put on some weight, though. Or muscle. That’s why he was here. Theoretically.

“Just send him all of them; let him choose a favourite.”

“I’m in a delicate situation right now, as I am certain you’re well aware,” Hux said. “I can’t mess around like that.”

Phasma snorted. “If the Resistance or whomever wanted to expose your sex scandals, you would’ve been exposed ten years ago.”

“Constant vigilance,” Hux repeated his father’s motto, and put the phone back into his bum bag, patting it half-heartedly. “I like the first one.”

“Sod off.” Phasma punched his shoulder. He tried not to flinch. 

* * *

He was at work when he revisited the issue of the buttocks portfolio again, fidgeting with his phone during his lunchbreak. Should he or shouldn’t he? Cons: everything. Pros: it’d make Ren happy.

“Bollocks,” he said under his breath, setting his phone aside and grabbing his instant oatmeal. He turned around with his chair, like he was trying to hide from the people passing his glass-walled office, and looked out of the window. It was raining. The Gherkin glinted in the distance, among modest skyscrapers. _Do it_ , it seemed to say.

“I’d rather not,” Hux mouthed, then he realised he was conversing with a building. He spun away in shame, and shoveled some creamy oatmeal into his mouth. The spoon was still between his lips when he grabbed his phone with determination and unlocked the screen. The next question was whether Ren had gotten a new phone by now, and whether he had kept his old number. Best to play it safe and communicate in code.

He sent him an aubergine emoji.

He was hardly finished with his meal when he got an answer.

* **aubergine** *: rule britannia

Hux giggled at the screen, rather maniacally. He attached the first photo (best not to be overeager), and sent it with a questionmark.

* **aubergine** *: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

* **aubergine** *: sat. 22:30 UTC+1?

**Own nr** : Affirmative

* **aubergine** *: miss u, slut

**Own nr** : I miss you too, slut.

Well. After this, they weren’t fooling anybody. He hoped that Phasma was right, and that nobody would give a shit.

* * *

Saturday, precisely at eight PM, Hux disappeared into his bathroom with his enema kit. When he emerged again, he was a changed man.

His home seemed grand and empty, and he was getting a bit nervous whether Ren would like it. Ren’s penthouse was so welcoming and cozy; his own flat didn’t even look lived-in. It was like a showroom. It even smelled like a showroom. He used to take pride in it, but now he couldn’t help but find it rather depressing. He kept adjusting his designer throw-pillows on the sofa, spritzed the cacti and the succulents, lit some candles, opened a window, dusted off the monochrome paintings, and coaxed Millicent out of her princess bed so he could pet her and sooth his nerves.

It was raining again: an autumn drizzle, making the outside world grey and damp. Maybe a nice cup of tea would help. He was deciding between an Armada blend and some matcha when the doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock; it was hardly ten. He really hoped that it was just Ren shitting on the agreed time, not the postman or something, because he was wearing a very short dressing gown and _other things_ underneath, and also, he had glasses on, and only a select few were allowed to see him with them.

“It’s rude to come so early, I was just having an emotional crisis,” he called out as he was approaching the door. “How dare you interrupt me?” The peephole showed a wide shoulder he’d recognise anywhere. He unbolted the door, and opened it with his heart beating too fast. Ren turned to him, looking ready to offer a smartass reply, but then his face _fell_. “What?” Hux said, grimacing.

Ren was just standing there, blinking rapidly, and then he muttered, “Shit.”

“ _What_ ,” Hux repeated, sharper this time. Ren swallowed, like he was ready to cry, and pulled him into his arms. Hux tensed and relaxed. Ren’s wool coat was slightly damp; the rain must’ve caught him. Hux ran a tentative hand over Ren’s back, and Ren trembled under his soothing touch. “Come on in, idiot, you’ll catch a cold.”

“You look adorable,” Ren said, choked-off. Hux pulled back and peered at him.

" _That’s_ your problem?”

“It’s not a problem,” Ren whispered, and cupped his face. His hands were icy. Hux kissed his wrist, and then grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Ren went willingly. The door closed with a click, and Ren was at him again, like a hug monster.

“My boyfriend is the cutest,” he mumbled, and while Hux had an objection to at least fifty percent of that sentence, he was distracted by Ren kissing his neck.

“You’re horrible. Also, your nose is cold.”

Ren rubbed it up against him. “Warm me up?”

“Oh, I will.” Hux put his fingers under Ren’s chin and leant in for a kiss. He tasted exquisite. “Thank you for coming,” Hux breathed against his lips. Ren licked him playfully, and then deepened the kiss.

They stumbled backward, and Hux was vaguely aware that Ren was shrugging off his coat, and, also, that they were mere seconds away from bumping into the small vanity table in the vestibule. He heard something hard drop to the floor, and Ren pulled back. “I almost forgot.” He gathered up his coat from the ground, reached into one of its pockets, and presented a small package, gift-wrapped in matte black. “Got this for you.”

“Ah, a souvenir?”

“Yeah, from a duty free shop in the Mundo Maya airport. Forever in my fondest memories.”

“How did it go? The mission, I mean,” Hux asked, carefully opening the present. Ren shrugged.

“We have what we need.”

“Good job. I knew you would— _Oh_.” Ren’s gift was a bar of pink chocolate with gold glitter. Hux tilted his head, turning it around and watching how it sparkled in the light. It was admittedly very pretty. “Is it edible?”

“So I’m told. Inspired by your shorts.”

Hux hummed, and took a careful bite, letting it melt in his mouth. It was just as atrociously sweet as he liked. “Mm! Thank you, it’s heavenly.”

Ren was staring at him again. “You bit into it.”

“Yes?”

“Most people would just break off a piece.”

“Are you cataloguing my little quirks again?”

“A man’s gotta have a hobby,” Ren said, looking away. Hux gave him a sticky, sugary kiss to show him proper gratitude for the gift.

* * *

They were cuddling on the sofa, and it seemed the most natural thing. Like it was _mundane_ , like they could do it every day: Hux sitting in Ren’s lap, sharing tea and chocolate and silly anecdotes. Millicent joined them in a short while, timidly settling over Hux’s knees. He rubbed her chin, and announced, “This is my cat.”

“Ah, I thought she was your sister for a moment.”

Hux elbowed him sharply. “Wiseacre.”

“She’s very cute,” Ren said. “I’m not sure I’m a cat person, but she’s very cute.” He petted her like one would pet a dog, hand huge on her head. “Good girl, who’s the best girl?”

“She is,” Hux answered just to set the record clear. Ren grinned at him, and nuzzled closer. He peered around in the flat once he was comfortable. “I like your home.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. Suits you. I can sense that you really love it.”

“You can _sense_ it,” Hux repeated. Ren hummed, and pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Are you ready to talk about your emotional crisis?”

“What emotional crisis?”

Ren bit him, gently. “The one you were having when I arrived.”

“Oh? That was just a little joke. I’m a bit tense about the Resistance situation, that’s all. I _was_. But you took care of it, and I did my part, and everyone—” He took a shaky breath. “It’ll be over...soon.”

Ren tensed for a split second, and then bit him again, this time deeper. Hux gasped, and got a fistful of his hair, pulling him closer. “I was worried you wouldn’t like it here,” he confessed. He almost melted when Ren started sucking on the bruise.

Millicent had had enough of their bullshit, and jumped off of Hux’s lap, offended. Ren slid his hand between Hux’s smooth legs, coaxing them open. He pulled back a bit, looking Hux in the eye as he sucked on his own fingers. He reached down, and caressed Hux’s thighs, getting them spit-wet.

“I’d come visit you in a shoebox,” he said. “I’d spend a night under a bridge with you if that’d be the only place for us. I’d cross fires for you, not just the waters of the ocean.”

“Why?” Hux blurted out.

“Because we found each other.” Ren caressed Hux’s cock with his fingertips, and smiled to himself. “And you keep putting on these fancy panties for me, which is very kind of you.”

“Fuck off,” Hux said, smirking. Ren started stroking him properly, rough and sweet.

“You deserve beautiful things,” he told him. “Good things. You’re smart and capable, hard-working, perfect—”

“I’m aware of my personality traits,” Hux said, a bit breathless. The lace was chafing his cock in the best way. Ren’s clever fingers wrapped around his swelling shaft. His wristwatch glinted.

“You are aware of them,” said Ren, “but you must know that others notice your efforts as well; it’s no accident you’re where you are: a CEO of the First Order. You deserved that. Your recent victory— You deserve to be praised.” He freed Hux’s erection. “You deserve to be _spoiled_.”

“Fuck,” Hux said. As Ren manhandled him to the armrest, he caught sight of their abandoned cups on the glass table, remembering that their tea was getting cold. He let it go when Ren went down on him. He wanted to scream. What he managed was a very pleased whine.

God. Ren and his fucking mouth.

Ren was palming himself while giving head, and Hux thought he’d never seen anything more arousing. He watched Ren’s suit jacket straining as his muscles shifted, how his hair fell over and tickled Hux’s skin, the impatient way he tugged the stray locks back behind his ridiculous ears. His mouth was hot and slick, and it was driving Hux absolutely insane.

“This is certainly in the top five courtesy blowjobs I’ve ever received,” he panted when he started to feel dangerously close. Ren pulled back a bit, Hux’s cock sliding free and resting against his cheek.

“Top five?” he teased, and rubbed his face over it.

“Careful with the bloody stubble— _ouch!_ Now it’s just a shortlist nominee.”

Ren pouted, and put his fingertip to the tip. He pushed it back to Hux’s stomach, then let it spring up. “Oh yeah, I’m doing such a shitty job, look, your poor cock is so, so hard. That must be very-very bad, aww.”

“That’s not what I said and you know it. It’s very nice, please resume? Please, I’m close.”

Ren pressed a messy kiss to the root, and then looked up. “If it’s just ‘nice,’ what would you rather have me do?”

Hux adjusted his askew glasses. “British ‘nice’ translates to ‘oh please fuck,come on.’”

“What would you have me do,” Ren repeated, and swallowed him down again. Hux squirmed. It _was_ awfully nice.

“I— _ah_. _Ahh!_ I’ve prepared a little surprise for you, one of the cheeky sort, and shit. _Shit, shit, shit._ I can’t wait to—”

“Oh, I see, it’s a competition,” Ren mumbled around him. He closed his eyes and bobbed his head, sliding up and down on Hux’s length. He grabbed a fistful of Ren’s hair and began to fuck his throat properly. Ren looked up at him, eyes glinting with mischief. He fucking winked. Hux came with a gasp, and Ren drank up every drop of it, visibly pleased.

Hux was still seeing stars when Ren sat back on his heels and swiped his mouth with his hand. “That was _nice_ ,” he commented.

“You’re dreadful,” Hux panted. Ren climbed over him on his hands and knees, and kissed him deeply, making him taste his pleasure.

“I know. I’m such an awful man,” Ren whispered against his lips, and Hux hugged him with every limb he possessed, clinging on like a koala bear.

“You’re the worst,” he complained. “Fuck, I can feel your dick jabbing my belly.”

“I was promised a naughty surprise.”

“Mm. I need my hands to give it to you.”

“Okay, let me go.”

“No.” Hux was quite possibly squeezing the life out of him. Ren laughed, and thrust forward.

“Please?” He thrust his hips again, effectively humping Hux’s soft abdomen. Hux knew, on a theoretical level, that he shouldn’t be turned on by this.

“Take me to the bedroom,” he said, a bit throaty. “It’s not some snack you can have on my sofa. It’s _gourmet_. It must be presented properly—”

“You’re letting me eat your ass!” Ren beamed, and scooped him up. Hux scowled.

“You’ve ruined the surprise.”

“No, I didn’t,” Ren sang, and tried to navigate them through the living room. “Which way?”

“The other way.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me.” Hux kissed him, making it near impossible for Ren to find his way to the door. He somehow managed, getting lost only two times and bumping Hux’s head against a low-hanging lamp just the once, and then Hux was tossed to the single bed. Ren knelt above him and pulled him closer by his ankles.

“I’m so hard, I’m going to pass out,” Ren announced. He sounded happy about it. Hux took his sweet time getting rid of his glasses, which were smudged from making out, and shrugging off his dressing gown.

“Turn me around,” he said. Ren nodded eagerly and flipped Hux to his stomach. Hux could hear a sharp intake of breath, and then felt Ren grabbing the pompom adorning the lacy back of his knickers like a fluffy bunny tail, inspired by his dream. He couldn’t _not_ buy them when he saw it in a shady boutique the other day. Ren squeezed the pompom again, and muttered, “Hi, Mr. Bunny.”

He pulled his hand back, caressing Hux’s arse and then sliding a finger between his warm cheeks. “Your skin is softer than the fluffy thing,” he said. “Look at you, you pretty thing.” He pried Hux’s cheeks open, pushing the knickers out of the way, but not taking them off. Hux grabbed the sheets, expectant.

“Can I?” Ren whispered.

“Claim your reward.” 

First he felt Ren’s nose press against him, and then the slickness of his tongue teasing at the rim. He gasped as Ren licked deeper, the tip of his tongue nudging inside. Hux’s hips bucked. Ren held him firmly, getting messier, until saliva was dripping down the crack of his arse. Hux squirmed, mouth hanging open and eyelids heavy.

He wondered what would have happened if this was all they had ever gotten, if Ren had chatted him up on that balcony after lighting his cigarette, if he managed to charm off Hux’s exhaustion and they ended up in the hotel. How would it have felt? He’d have demanded round two, that was for sure, but what then? What would have happened in the morning, or during his last hours in the city?

With Ren pleasuring him so thoroughly, eating him up—almost _feasting_ —he couldn’t see a possible outcome that would have resulted in them _not_ becoming an _item_ , dating or fucking and despising the distance between them.

“Need you closer,” he panted, and he moaned as Ren circled his rim with the pad of his thumb.

“Where’s the lube?”

Hux gesticulated vaguely at the nightstand. He was nothing if not prepared; there were three XXL bottles there.

“Wow, okay. Which one is water-based?”

“All of them.” Hux chose one at random and presented it to Ren. He whimpered as Ren pulled his hand away and slicked up his fingers.

“Gonna get you nice and dripping for me.”

“Oh yeah. Yes, please.”

Ren smirked. He carefully slid one finger in, and then another, twisting them. He bent down again, and licked Hux’s little hole, stretched around his knuckles. Hux made a noise he didn’t know he was capable of, and then outright yelped as Ren’s fingertips brushed past his prostate.

“How does it feel?” Ren asked, beginning to massage it tenderly. Hux blinked a few times in quick succession.

“If you stop, I’m breaking your arms,” he decided. Ren chuckled, and lapped at his entrance again, tapping his prostate as he unbuckled his belt and got himself in hand. Hux would’ve been aroused by the level of controlled multitasking alone. He groaned, and squeezed his eyes shut, intense waves of pleasure shaking him.

“You’re taking it so well,” Ren said, his deep voice vibrating through him. “You’re so fucking amazing. I love your sweet little hole clenching around my fingers like this.” Another feather-light touch inside, and then another. “You belong to me, don’t you? This is mine.” He pressed down. “You’re mine.” He leant in, licking deep, claiming him as he began to move his fingers in and out, slow and ernest.

Hux moaned, sounding almost pained. It was just so intense. He started pushing back, fucking himself on Ren’s tongue and his hand, overcome and restless. Ren grabbed his hips, and pushed him to the mattress, holding him down as he burrowed his face between his cheeks again and dipped his tongue inside. Hux cried out, and he was coming, soaking his knickers and the sheets.

When he came back to himself, he was trembling and dazed and feeling slightly guilty. Ren had pulled back, caressing Hux’s thigh with his clean hand.

“This concludes an overly successful foreplay,” Hux panted, head spinning. “Sorry. Maybe I can jerk you off?”

“Don’t apologise,” Ren told him, flicking the pompom. “Catch your breath, it’s okay. You were amazing. The sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, or touched, or tasted.”

“Regardless, the offer stands.”

“Can I come on the small of your back?”

Hux thought about it. “If that sounds like a pleasurable experience to you?”

“While you’re wearing these sticky little panties and lying there fucked-out and with your hair? Damn right it sounds like a _pleasurable experience_. Whenever you’re ready.”

“A second,” Hux mumbled, wiggling away from the damp spot on the sheets. Ren got him a pillow, and he hugged it close, burying his face in it and inhaling the comforting smell of detergent. Ren knelt above him, and peppered his shoulders with small bites and kisses. It was decidedly relaxing. Hux was soon starting to feel warm and snug, soaking up all the attention. “You may come on me,” he announced lazily. Ren chuckled, and got lined up.

Listening to the obscene sounds of his fist on his dick and his heavy breathing made something clench in Hux’s abdomen, but he absolutely _refused_ to have another erection. Nevertheless, by the time Ren came all over his back with a relieved grunt he was half-hard again. He promptly ignored it.

“You always give me such generous loads,” he said as Ren rolled off.

“You’re welcome,” Ren muttered, and closed his eyes for a moment. Hux kissed his eyelids. Ren let out a pleased moan and pulled him to his chest. After some shifting and fumbling, Hux was straddling his hips, sitting on him triumphantly like a conquering king. Ren’s come was slowly dripping down his back—maybe his anointing oil. He looked down at him, at his heaving chest and glorious hair.

“I could ride you to battle,” he announced. Ren smiled up at him, fondly, and brushed his knuckles over his knee.

“What would you do in a battle?”

“Vanquish my enemies, you twat.” He smacked Ren’s hand away and reached for the pack of Sobranie on the nightstand. “Smoke?”

“Yes please.”

Hux got himself a pink one, and put its partner between Ren’s lips. They looked really good around it. He lit his own first and then bent down to offer the burning end to Ren.

“You’re unreal,” Ren muttered. Hux allowed himself a sly smile as he sat back, savouring his cigarette atop his partner. Life was well. That was unreal, perhaps.

“Never had a cigarette in bed?”

“Never had someone who liked them pink. Including girlfriends, and a drag queen.”

Hux sucked on the gold-coloured filter, contemplating this. “That’s weird,” he decided.

“Tell me about it,” Ren grinned. He wiggled a bit, getting comfortable. “So, you and pink. Is there a story behind this?”

“Just what you’d expect. I was a skinny ginger with no mother and huge glasses, and then it soon turned out that I was also a fucking faggot.” He took a long drag. “So I said to myself, there’s nothing I can do about these things, although I did dye my hair once and discovered contact lenses in my late teens, but being gay… well, I’ll be the gayest. When they call me names, they’ll be stating the bloody obvious, and it’s going to get so boring so soon that they might leave me alone. And it worked.” He shrugged a narrow shoulder. “I’ve outgayed their wildest dreams.”

Ren looked at Hux’s spread thighs and spent cock as if to say _I can see that_ , and then met his eyes, smiling smugly. “What colour did you dye your hair?”

Hux licked his lips, tasting smoke and Ren’s lingering kisses. He clicked his tongue. “Pink.”

* * *

Something almost happened in the shower as they soaped each other up, but Ren got distracted by the curiosities Hux’s bathroom had to offer. First it was the dildo attached to the wall; Hux was so used to its presence that he forgot to take it down, and had to witness Ren challenging it to a duel. Then Millicent’s potty training kit sent Ren into a raging rant about somebody named Chewie, whom Hux suspected to be a dog, but Ren talked about it as if it was a person, which made his story about Chewie pooping into the pool even less appealing, and straight up murdered Hux’s libido.

Also, it turned out that Ren could talk while washing his teeth and flossing.

Hux contemplated whether he should appear civilised and put on pyjamas, but seeing that Ren helped change the sheets in the nude changed his mind. There was something tantalizing in curling up with him like this, casually bare-arsed in his own bedroom. The faint noises of traffic lulled him as he was petting Ren’s hair. Ren was splayed out half on top of him, burying his face into Hux’s chest. As cars passed by, their lights washed over the room, chasing away the watery shadows.

“How was work today,” Ren mumbled.

“You want me to tell you about work to help you fall asleep?”

Ren made a sound of protest. Hux never thought that there’d be moments when he found him…cute. At least they were even.

“I want you to tell me about work because I want to know how…you are,” Ren protested. “And you love work.”

“Don’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s more like a casual affair. You two are married. It’s very romantic.”

Hux chuckled, letting Ren’s locks fall from his fingers. “It’s a childhood romance.”

“Really? You never wanted to be an astronaut or a vet or, I don’t know, a pilot?”

“I always wanted to be a CEO to the Order,” Hux confessed. It was partially true. In fact, he always wanted to be a chairman, but he didn’t want to sound like a loser. “What did you want to be?”

“An explorer,” Ren mumbled.

“Like Dora?”

“ _Nooo_ , she’s a fucking dilettante. I wanted to, like, ride a camel through a desert, wrestle crocodiles, survive an avalanche, that sort of thing.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to wrestle crocodiles,” Hux mused.

“I want to punch the shit out of a crocodile,” Ren said darkly.

“What’s stopping you?”

“The law.” He rubbed his eyes. “Anyway. I also wanted to be a storm chaser and then a lumberjack and then a storm chaser again, and I had a firefighter phase, but that didn’t last very long.”

Hux traced his fingers over Ren’s forehead. “How did the adrenaline junkie end up being a businessman?”

“I can’t throw away my grandfather’s heritage just for shits and giggles. Although he used to be a NASCAR driver; did you know that? I like that. That must’ve been fun. Anyway. Mum told me I could do whatever I want, but first I gotta get a respectable degree, so I got a B.S. in business administration, and then shit was going down, so I also got a MBA in economics and finance.” He suppressed a yawn. “I still like storms, though. You look like one.”

“I look like one?” Hux asked, amused, deciding that Ren was getting delusional with jetlag. Ren pressed closer, the heat of his body almost feverish.

“You’re my perfect storm,” Ren said. “My darling hurricane.”

Hux pressed a soft kiss to his adoring lips. Ren kissed back, and it began to rain.

* * *

It was still raining when Hux woke up, but it was much less poetic, an ugly shower washing through the paralysed city. He stretched out, enjoying how the fresh sheets caressed his body and reveling in Ren’s lingering smell. He could hear him fussing around in the kitchen, and smirked to himself. He contemplated waiting for him in bed in all his disheveled glory, but then decided to freshen up a bit.

Going into the bathroom, he almost toppled over Millicent. She chirruped, and rubbed her face to his ankle. Hux squatted down to pet her.

“Did you forgive me for having a guest over? Wonder of wonders. Come on, Daddy’s gonna get ready.” He scooped her up and washed his face and brushed his teeth with his free hand. His hair and the lenses could wait.

Millicent was getting antsy by the time he got back to the bedroom, so he let her go, and put on his dressing gown and glasses. Millicent kept close, and followed him to the kitchen.

“Mm, something smells amazing.”

“ _Mwrh_ ,” Millicent agreed.

“I’m making pancakes,” Ren called from by the oven. Hux took a second to appreciate the scene: a gorgeous man wearing nothing but a pair of briefs and a £400,000 watch managing to flip a pancake and making it look easy. He walked up to him, following the path of soft light on the floor, and hugged him from behind.

“I’m keeping you,” he mumbled, and got a handful of his pecs; he squeezed, as if in greeting. Ren chuckled, deep and inexplicably nervous.

“Will you still want to keep me if I confess that I couldn’t find any maple syrup?”

“It’s not that common around here. I mean sure, you can get it from Sainsbury’s and shit, but anyway, use marmalade.”

“ _Marmalade_ ,” Ren repeated, appalled.

“Or lemon and sugar.”

“Why?”

The microwave beeped. Hux pressed a kiss to Ren’s shoulder. “I’m getting it.”

He sauntered to the microwave, feeling like he was in a movie. Millicent trailed behind, probably hoping for a treat. Hux rubbed her belly with his foot as he opened the microwave’s door. His face fell.

“Please tell me it’s not meant to be tea?”

“Couldn’t find a boiler.”

“Because I have a kettle! You saw it yesterday. I know it’s an antique, but it gets the job done— Shit, will you look at that. Never heard of a tea egg?” His prized Armada leaves were just floating in the barely-tepid water.

“I’ll strain it after, you _do_ have a strainer.”

“Yes, I do, but that’s not how you’re supposed to—”

“I haven’t slept a fucking minute,” Ren snapped, tossing some pancakes over a plate. “And you don’t have coffee, okay? So let me do my fucking tea however I want it.”

Hux closed the microwave’s door so he wouldn’t have to look at what lurked inside. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just don’t need you to lecture me at the crack of dawn.”

“It’s past eight.”

“The crack of dawn,” Ren said again, softer, and his lips tugged into a guilty smile. Hux sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“We’ll have to negotiate our sleeping, eating, and drinking habits,” he noted. This was exactly why he didn’t do relationships. The absurd fights, the compromises. Looking at Ren, he couldn’t help but feel that it’d be worth it. Ren offered the still-sizzling pan with a very handsome pancake.

“These bad boys will earn me some bonus points, right?”

“We’ll see,” Hux allowed. Ren smiled that sorry little smile again, his hunched shoulders indicating remorse as well, but he didn’t apologise out loud. Somehow, that made it easier. Hux waited a few beats, and then walked up next to him. He leant to the counter and watched Ren making pancakes in silence. Ren shot him some quick glances. He bumped his shoulder. Hux pushed back. Ren bumped into him again. They snickered.

* * *

“No, no, no! Careful! It’s getting everywhere!”

“Oh yeah, lick it up, baby…”

“Gross!” Hux protested, mouth full of the Nutella-and-strawberry pancakes Ren was hand feeding him. It wasn’t romantic or sexy, as Ren had suggested it would be, but it was undeniably hilarious. Ren watched him with hungry eyes, and Hux leant over the counter to chase his hand and lick up the Nutella, which threatened to drip onto the black marble. He sucked two of Ren’s fingers into his mouth and moaned around them. The Nutella was a good idea.

“Fuck,” Ren breathed. “You’re giving me blowjob eyes.”

Hux fluttered his lashes, feeling giddy. He pulled free, Ren’s sticky fingers sliding down to his chin.

“Put some Nutella over your dick, and I’m sucking it for breakfast.”

“Really?”

Hux kicked Ren’s chair, affectionately.

“Really.”

He flicked his tongue out and started lapping at the remaining Nutella coating Ren’s fingertips. Ren grunted.

“You’re an insatiable little bitch. Did you know that?”

“Well, I didn’t invite you over for _chess_.” With a last, sloppy lick, he was finished, and parted his lips to be fed.

“I’d beat your ass,” Ren said, and got him another bite.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Hux swallowed. Ren levelled him with his gaze. He looked more massive than ever in Hux’s tiny barchair. Hux kicked it again. “I’m very good when it comes to strategy.”

“No shit, me too.” Ren kicked back, and Hux had to get a hold of the counter’s edge so he wouldn’t fall back. “Fuck! Sorry.”

“I’ll live. Anyway, speaking of strategy and planning—” He got a strawberry and offered it to Ren on his palm. He went for it, and then licked at Hux’s fingers as if to say thank you. “Do we have the whole day?”

“Most of it, if we don’t want to make Snoke suspect anything; the whole, if we stopped giving a fuck.”

“We never even _began_ to give a fuck,” Hux warned. Ren grimaced, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Should we?”

“Damn right we should. You know what’s he like. And he was weirdly insistent that we should all stay put; you get something of a free pass with all your travels, but now that you’ve got the pendrive, you’ve lost the alibi—”

“I haven’t got the pendrive,” Ren corrected. Hux’s heart skipped a beat. He adjusted his glasses, not even caring how dirty they’d get.

“Excuse me?” he asked, voice nothing more than a tremble.

“I don’t have the pendrive, but you shouldn’t be worried. It’s all taken care of.”

“How is it all taken care of if you don’t have it? You told me you had it!”

“I told you we had what we needed,” Ren corrected, popping a strawberry into his mouth. Hux shook his head and slid off the bar stool. “Bunny,” Ren called after him as he headed back to the kitchen.

“No pet names,” Hux retorted. He could taste bitter panic on his tongue, overpowering the sweetness of the pancakes. He washed his hands almost mechanically, heart beating in his throat. He didn’t want to speak until he found his voice, and Ren wasn’t saying anything. He could feel him staring at him. He dried his hands on a kitchen towel and turned back to Ren, wishing they had more clothes on, wishing the pat-pat-patting of rain didn’t sound suddenly irritating, wishing Ren had never admitted what he just did. “You don’t have the pendrive,” Hux blurted out, voice too small.

“Armitage, please. Hear me out before you have a nervous breakdown. Okay?”

Hux nodded. He was getting dizzy. He couldn’t see very well, the edge of his vision blurring into darkness. He rubbed his temples. “What did you do?”

“They have no way, _no fucking way_ to ask Luke’s help with it, and Maz couldn’t do shit, as expected. I got Rey, and no one else will be able to coax Luke out of his depression den, and Rey also knows their next move, and she’ll tell it to me. I mean, I will make her. So you don’t need to worry.”

“What do you mean you ‘got’ Rey,” Hux asked, making air quotes. Ren pushed his hair back from his face, impatient. He had some Nutella on his cheek. Hux wasn’t going to tell him.

“I mean I have her. I’ve brought her here. She’s moping in a hotel room. I took her credit card and phone, so she can’t—”

“You kidnapped your cousin,” Hux said, voice finally breaking. He had to sit down for a minute, so he just slid down to the floor, back to the wall. He heard Ren pushing the bar stool back and getting to his feet.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“I didn’t kidnap her.”

“Did she come with you willingly?”

“Not exactly.”

“You’re holding her against her will,” Hux explained to Ren’s toes. “Except you’re not even holding her, because you’re here. You’re here with me. Please, please, please, don’t make me regret this.”

“Hey.” Ren sank to his knees and got a hold of Hux’s wrists. Despite his better judgement, Hux didn’t try to pull away. Ren started rubbing soothing circles over his skin. “It’s okay. She’s with one of my men; trustworthy guy, y’know. Craig; do you know Craig? He won’t hurt her, she won’t hurt him. He’s got a gun, which he won’t use, but Rey doesn’t know that. She has no way to contact anybody; she’s locked inside. I told her she has some time to think things over. She _needs_ time. Finn won’t make a move without her, and Poe won’t make a move without Finn, and they have the pendrive. I think I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

“You’re more clever than this,” Hux said. He didn’t sound very convinced. Hopeful, rather.

“She’ll tell me everything. I’m sure of it. We’ll get more than our pendrive back: info, security, the upper-hand.” He pressed a kiss to Hux’s knuckles. “And peace.”

“And a swell time in prison,” Hux mumbled. He got up, not letting go of Ren’s hands. Ren remained kneeling.

“You don’t know my family,” Ren said. “I do. They won’t press charges. Rey is okay; she’s just grounded. She has food and everything.”

“She’s not a dog; you can’t just leave her with a bowl of something and assume that she’ll be okay and won’t press charges. I bet she’d press charges after this shit even if she was a fucking corgi.” He dropped Ren’s hands and headed to the bedroom. Ren followed, and Millicent used the opportunity to jump on the counter and start on the glass of milk they hadn’t finished.

“I’ve got this,” Ren said, but Hux was no longer listening. He opened the door to his walk-in closet and grabbed the first suit he could get his hands on. It was a tweed suit. He put it back and got a charcoal one instead. No. Charcoal was too much. It was a Sunday.

“Which hotel is she in?”

“Claridge's.”

“You proper fucking cockwomble,” Hux hissed. The charcoal would do. He took off his dressing gown, partly to show Ren what he was absolutely _not_ getting his hands on today. “Claridge's! Of all places!”

“I’m not very familiar with London, and you spoke highly of it last time, so.”

“Yeah, in the context of my fuckscepades!” He grabbed an underwear at random. It was a turquoise thong. He waved it at Ren, threateningly. “They _know_ me there!”

Ren let out a sigh. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to Claridge's to get her, obviously. And you’re coming with me.” He put on the thong, then started buttoning up his shirt. To hell with ironing. Not today.

“We’ll be too early. She’ll still be mad; she hadn’t had enough time to cool off.”

“Of course she’ll be mad, you kidnapped her!” Hux cried. Ren had the audacity to roll his eyes, and walked out.

Fuming, Hux finished dressing, and then stormed out of the wardrobe in his socks, holding a pair of Oxford shoes. He was both relieved and treacherously disappointed to see that Ren had dressed as well. His cognac-coloured Chelsea boots were perfect with his navy suit, but Hux decided it was not the time to compliment him.

“Get us a cab,” he barked. Ren frowned.

“Don’t you have a car?”

“As a rule, I'm not driving while feeling like hitting pedestrians would be good for my nerves.”

“How do you get a cab around here?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Hux muttered, and got his phone as he darted to the fridge. He got some premium Whiskas for Millicent and forked it into her bowl. He was chatting with the dispatcher and grabbed the plates with the pancakes without thinking much about it; he couldn’t risk Millicent eating from them, so he tossed the leftovers into the trash. He only realised what it must’ve looked like from Ren’s point of view, how petty and cruel, once he was staring down the empty plates. To hell with it. He put them in the dishwasher, said his thanks and goodbyes, and ended the call.

Ren was lingering by the door, holding his coat, looking unsure what to do. There was something arresting in his eyes, a sort of defiance that made Hux stop. He sighed and leant in, licking up the smudge of Nutella from Ren’s cheek.

“I love you,” he said. It was bad enough that Ren looked surprised, so he cupped his face and pulled him in for a proper kiss.

* * *

After a cab ride, which was either tense-tense or just sexually charged, they arrived at Claridge's. The doorman tipped his top hat to Hux and his beau with such well-practiced ease that it made Hux cringe and admitted them to the magnificent lobby. Hux closed his umbrella and stopped by one of the gold-framed mirrors to comb his hair with his fingers, feeling miserable and actively hating his rain-tainted glasses. He had never entered this place looking so undignified, not even on the night when he had been introduced to the concept of a foursome in room 212. Ren put a reassuring hand on the small of his back.

“At ease, soldier,” he whispered. Hux met his eyes in the mirror.

“You know what your plan is like?” he gritted through his teeth. “Like a James Bond villain's plan.”

Ren grinned, hesitant. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I mean it as constructive criticism.” Hux adjusted his tie, and led the way to the lift. Ren kept glancing around, looking charmed and drawing further attention to themselves, which was just fucking great. “Much like a James Bond villain,” Hux explained once he pushed the button, “you’re doing the overly complicated shit for _flair_ while you could’ve done the easy shit and just straight-up shot the enemy in the fucking head—”

“Wow, you don’t want me to kidnap Rey, but somehow it’s okay to shoot her?”

Hux shushed him and looked around, a bit frantic. The Sunday crowd seemed to consist of three Russian ladies, who were standing around in a corner and chatting at an obnoxiously loud volume.

“Please don’t shoot your cousin,” Hux mouthed, and then, as they got into the lift, he turned to Ren, pleading, “You won’t shoot your cousin, right?”

Ren shrugged. “Don’t have my gun.”

“If you ever find yourself in a situation where you have your gun and you also have your cousin in the room, still don’t shoot her, okay?”

“Okay, but what if she has a gun and attacks me? Theoretically. She does have a gun. Not now, usually.”

“Don’t get me involved with your nonsense of a constitution; civilised nations don’t need one.” Hux leant to the wall as Ren punched in floor two. “You’ll also notice that the bloody police who’ll arrest you for kidnapping your cousin don’t have a gun. The Metropolitan Police doesn’t have guns. Let that sink in.”

“Are you bitching, or are you worried for me?”

Hux thought about it. “Both.”

“It’s as adorable as it is disheartening.” Ren looked him over. “We’re good, then?”

“Yes. Now handle this mess.”

The door opened, and Ren hissed. “Shit. Right. You count floors differently.” He pressed the button labelled one, and Hux resisted clawing his own face off.

Arriving at the right floor, Ren got out of the lift, looking ready to conquer, marching with his fists curled. Hux matched his stride, but their walk of glory only lasted for a few metres, ending when they ran into a cheerful bloke in a black suit waving at them with a box of Tampax.

“Hey, boss! Oh, Mr. Hux! Wow! Good morning, sir.”

“What are you doing here?” Ren asked, voice dangerously low and eerily calm.

“Shit,” Hux mouthed. “Is he Craig?”

“I’m Craig,” Craig said. Hux contemplated shoving his umbrella down his throat and then pushing the open button.

“What are you doing here, Craig?” Ren asked again. Craig’s smile faltered.

“Miss, um, _the_ Miss needed— I couldn’t send a maid for it, you told me not to get the staff involved. I’ve got the keycard.” He patted his breast pocket. “Told her I’ll be back in a jiffy. I couldn’t— I didn’t want a mess, you see.”

Ren pulled the card out of Craig’s pocket, very slowly, not breaking eye contact. Craig looked ready to piss himself, but he kept smiling. Ren touched the box of Tampax with the card. “Shove these up in every hole you have,” Ren advised. “All of them. Now get out of my sight.”

“Boss—”

“ _Out_!” Ren yelled. Hux didn’t even flinch, and didn’t warn him to keep it down when he screamed some colourful curses after the fleeing man. It was too late anyway. They jogged to door 111, and Ren keyed them in just in time to cast a last glance at Rey.

Rey was around eighteen, and she was the most Millennial looking person Hux had ever seen: ragged jeans, suspenders, a croptop, the whole set. She was standing in the window, outrageously young and entitled. The panels were smashed in, the heavy lamp that had done the job still lying on the ground and getting wet as the rain poured in. Rey looked at Ren, clutching her backpack. She wordlessly raised her middle finger. Then she jumped.

“Oh my god,” Hux said, voice colourless. “She killed herself.”

“Like hell, it’s the second— _first_ floor,” Ren grunted, and rushed to the window. He leant out. “There she goes. Landed on a car. Oh, a backflip. That’s kinda impressive. Shit.” He turned around, dazed, and repeated “Shit” when he caught sight of the wall. KYLO REN IS HOLDING ME HOSTAGE was scribbled on the tasteful wallpaper with a much less tasteful dark red lipstick.

Hux felt like he had met the quota of feeling emotions for that day and just stared at the writing with a vague sense of exasperation, more preoccupied with the handwriting than with the actual message, or the shit they were now in. It was cruisive. Surprising. She must’ve put effort into it.

“Help me out with your resident’s insight,” Ren asked. “What’s the name of that park-thing we drove past? The not-Hyde-park-one.”

“Grosvenor Square.”

Ren nodded, solemnly. “I know where she’s headed.” He cast another annoyed glance at the writing on the wall. “Could you do me a favour?”

“It’s not a favour when the Order is involved; it’s duty.” Hux knew exactly how it sounded, but what else could he have said?

“Right. Okay. Could you handle this? The graffiti, Craig, and the questions by the hotel staff?”

“Certainly.” _Anything, anything._ “Where are you going?”

Ren stepped on the damp windowsill. He looked back over his shoulder.

“Away, I’m afraid. I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.” He straightened up, wool coat floating about his legs, hair a dark halo. He looked glorious. Hux looked up at him, chin tilted, and smiled.

“I trust that you will.”

Ren smiled back. Then he jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning:** pejorative terms used affectionately / rimming without protection / barebacking in general / homophobic slur mentioned (f-word) / bullying briefly referred to / mild reference to non-sexual child-abuse / Ren expressing desire to fight a crocodile, which is, arguably, animal abuse / small domestic fight / Ren seems pretty chill about the idea of shooting somebody / graphic description of umbrella assault / somebody jumps out a window; they’re not harmed, but it’s misinterpreted as a suicide attempt / HEAVY SPOILER: ʎlɹᴉɐɟ pǝʇɐǝɹʇ ʇou ʎlsnoᴉʌqo s’ǝɥs ʇnq 'pǝɯɹɐɥ ʇou s’ǝɥs ;pɹɐnƃʎpoq-opnǝsd s’uǝɹ ɥʇᴉʍ ɯooɹ lǝʇoɥ ɐ ǝpᴉsuᴉ pǝʞɔol uǝǝq s’oɥʍ 'ʎǝɹ pǝddɐupᴉʞ uǝɹ
> 
> We've got a gorgeous [**fanart**](http://ashvalentine6x.tumblr.com/post/160445338142/wearing-your-heart-on-your-sleeve-means-others) from the ridiculously talented Ally _@AshValentine6_ \- thank you so much!
> 
> Meanwhile, [Gefionne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne) continues to be an amazing beta <3
> 
> The title is from a very fitting quote by Junot Diaaz  
> Find me on tumblr at [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com)


	6. When It Rains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 of the Suit Porn AU, in which Hux can’t catch a bloody break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please refer to the end notes for **content warnings**
> 
>  **Recap on _A Certain Level of Vulnerability:_** Hux destroyed Hosnian Prime, and invited his boyfriend over, feeling like he was missing something to celebrate his success. They almost managed to spend a day together without shit hitting the fan; then it turned out that Ren had kidnapped his cousin, Rey. The girl escaped the hotel she was held captive, and Ren jumped out the window to chase after her, leaving Hux to deal with the staff. It was fun.

He hadn’t heard from Ren in three days, which could only mean a hundred things. He bargained with his anxiety, reasoning that failure could still mean that Ren was doing okay. Mostly, he raged at Snoke in craven silence and cursed the Resistance seven days ‘til Sunday while getting on with his life, having conference calls with coal magnates, strategizing on meetings and finding new and innovative ways of ignoring incompetent emails. Keeping busy used to work, but now he found himself fidgety, constantly checking his phone or grinding his teeth when manners forbid him to do so, waiting for a text, a call, a photo.

He was sitting in the hospital’s waiting room, knees jerking in a nervous rhythm as he scrolled through his log and detected exactly zero personal messages. He forced himself to still and to refrain from sending yet another text to Ren saying “how did it go” and “checking in,” or reassuring him that everything was fine with the hotel but Ren owed him a couple of bucks. Double-texting was desperate enough, and he was already twelve texts too close to being nagging and clingy. His father taught him to state his business and wait for a reply which might never come, but keep his dignity intact. It never worked.

He glanced at the door. Whoever his father’s sudden visitor was, they were taking forever, and Hux was contemplating simply leaving; he couldn’t afford to sit around in corridors, _not in my position_ , he pointed out as he constructed an imaginary dialogue with Brendol, _I’m important, I matter, I should be your fucking priority, you should be thankful that I’m here, that I keep coming even though you_ — right. Like he was ever going to say any of that.

He allowed his head to loll back. He was effectively trapped. Brendol made him bring some of those ghastly Mr Kipling puddings, the _Exceedingly Good Lemon Sponge_ ones, and maybe Brendol could forego a polite visit from his one and only child, but he was _expecting_ those puddings. Hux drummed his fingers on the box, and then curled his hand into a fist; let out a slow exhale; stared down the ugly blue chair facing him, mind drifting. When the door opened, he started and pulled himself up into a respectable sitting position. He was expecting one of Brendol’s old comrades to step out, greet him with a too-strong handshake, note how he’s grown, ask him what he did and proceed to congratulate _Brendol_ when he said he was a CEO of the First Order.

A pair of yellow stilettos caught his eyes. He didn’t know any of his father’s acquaintances who’d wear something like that; in fact, he only knew of one person on Earth who could pull it off. His gaze raked over the intricate layers of a flowing turquoise dress paired with an abundance of jewellry and a faux fur jacket, and as it reached Padmé Amidala’s eyes, he knew he had guessed right. She smiled a well-practiced politician's smile, tilting her head slightly to the right. She was like an apparition, a haunting memory of a past she refused to let go.

“Armitage Hux,” she said. “Don’t you ever knock?”

Hux shot a quick glance at Brendol through the open door: he was lying in bed, white as the sheets. Hux turned his attention back to the tiny woman, and, putting the pudding aside, offered his hand.

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Senator Amidala.”

Her rings dug into his flesh as he clasped her hand. He briefly wondered whether it was an intimidation technique.

“I was just heading out for a smoke,” Amidala said, voice too kind. “Would you like to join me?”

“With pleasure,” he lied through his teeth, smiling, and followed her to the balcony, giving one last glance of _what is going on here_ to Brendol, who, judging by his expression, had no idea either. He kept his gaze on the elaborate bun in which Amidala wore her white hair while trying to untangle her motivations. Her comment on knocking indicated that she was waiting for Hux — that was rather obvious; and he could also see why she didn’t feel like dropping by his office: this was not an official meeting. Still, to have the cheek to come _here_ , of all private places she could ambush him, was a trademark low blow by the New Republic, given that they were involved, and it wasn’t just Amidala’s private vendetta for Hosnian Prime.

He was glad for the fresh air as he stepped forward to open the door for her, and even more glad that he could take out a cigarette. He wanted to offer his lighter like a proper gentleman, but Amidala was way ahead of him, lighting her red Marlboro with a Zippo very similar to Ren’s. Hux frowned at the cheap cigarette.

“Old habits die hard,” Amidala explained, gesticulating with the burning end. “They were my husband’s favourite.”

Hux nodded, caught off-guard, and kept his gaze on the garden as he put his Sobranies to his lips. The trees were ablaze with yellow and orange, and small figures in white loitered below them. His father refused to visit the garden. He always thought that nature was nonsense; Hux had begged for him to choose a clinic in Cornwall, Cheltenham, or Cambridge, because London’s fumes didn’t do any favours for his lungs, but Brendol refused briskly: _This is_ my _city; I will live and die here_.

“Concerned about my father’s health?” Hux asked, trying to get a step ahead of her, but Amidala just graciously raised a shoulder.

“I do wish him a speedy recovery,” she said, “and I’m pleased that I could have some words with him, but I suppose you know I’m here to meet you.

Damn the woman. He swallowed down the smoke and asked, “Why is that?” _What if it’s not about Hosnian Prime_ , his mind supplied, _what if it’s about Ren_? The mere idea made his stomach turn. There was a long list of people he didn’t want to know anything about his love life, and Ren’s grandmother was certainly in the top ten.

“I think I felt I had to.” Amidala leant on the cast-iron railing. She looked very out of place in her flamboyant fashion extravaganza, outdressing the elegant building and the glory of the garden, and it made Hux wonder whether she was really there. He was definitely hoping for a negative answer. “My granddaughter was kidnapped,” Amidala went on, and Hux reevaluated his request, wishing to disappear himself. “She came to me. She told me that Ben was accompanied by a tall man with ginger hair, a skinny frame, wearing an expensive suit, whom she suspected to be, well, _you_.”

“Contrary to popular belief, ginger is not such a unique colouring in the UK,” Hux explained, biding his time. “We make up about ten percent of the general population.”

Amidala smiled at him bitterly. “Do you deny witnessing Rey jumping out of a window at Claridge's?”

Hux didn’t say anything to that. Amidala let some smoke drift from her red lips, slowly, in a way similar to how Ren did it. She also held the cigarette like him, between index- and middle-finger, the rest of her hand slightly curled.

“They used to be such _carefree_ kids,” Amidala sighed, looking at nothing in particular. “Used to dote on each other. Ben enjoyed playing the big brother. He taught her everything; taught her how to read before she’d go to school, taught her how to tie her shoes, how to beat up the boys who were mean to her. He likes taking care of people. Then Rey was getting older and getting her own ideas. That, he doesn’t like. He tried to control her still, and she was having none of it. They completely fell out by the time he got his MBA. Behaved like mortal enemies. And there was all the ugliness with Ani. And look at them, still fighting.” She took a long drag. “Rey could come around. She could love him again, if she could respect him. But he’s not a respectable person.”

“That’s rather harsh,” Hux interrupted. He refused to really defend Ren, just in case Amidala was onto something and built up her whole monologue just to tell him to take his evil hands off her precious boy.

“He went too far,” she announced. “He went too far from _us._ I’m convinced it’s my responsibility to get him back on the right track.” She put out her cigarette, flickers of cinder flying up. “I’m asking you to get him fired.”

Hux refrained from gaping, but he knew his expression must’ve been gobsmacked nevertheless. “Why on Earth would I do that?” he asked.

“I understand you hate each other,” Amidala said flatly. Hux curled his hands into fists, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. _Be calm, be calm_.

“That’s a well-known fact,” he replied, voice a bit high-pitched. “It doesn’t mean I want him _fired_. He might be a spoiled wanker, excuse my French, but he gets the job done.”

Amidala arched an eyebrow. “Does he?”

“Indeed.”

“How’s the pendrive, in that case?”

“I don’t know,” Hux grunted, and added, “I don’t know what you’re onto.”

“You have voiced severe critique regarding his methods on a number of occasions. I need you to convince Snoke to let him go. I understand there’s tension between them.”

“He’s still Snoke’s favourite,” Hux objected, mind shouting, _he’s mine, he’s mine, he’s—_ “Are you offering your _help_?”

Amidala held up a finger— _just a moment_ —and rummaged around in her purse. Hux scoffed.

“I’m not out of my _mind_ ,” he protested. “The friend of my enemy is certainly not my friend.

“The First Order will go down,” Amidala announced, putting a small plastic object in his hand and closing his fingers around it. “It’s not going down with my grandson.” She turned away and walked to the exit, heels clicking on the stone floor. “Get him out, and then follow suit if you want to.”

Hux opened his fist, staring at the pendrive in panicked disbelief. Was it genuine? Probably. He’d need to check it. He’d just stay here a little longer, gaping at the fucking thing. Someone had to do it. He turned it around, watching how the dull grey surface swallowed up the light.

 

* * *

 

He was distraught and reeking of smoke when he got back to Brendol.

“Got these for you,” he mumbled, dropping the puddings on the nightstand. Brendol didn’t even turn to them. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his swollen, purple legs hanging off the edge, as if he was getting ready to chase down the senator and then thought better of it. He was looking at his toes, tangled hair falling to his face. He had stopped requesting a haircut every fortnight; he had stopped caring.

“Did she come to kill you?” he asked, voice hoarse. Hux frowned as he pulled out his usual chair.

“I don’t think that’s her style, no.” He took a seat at a polite distance, crossing his feet at the ankles. Brendol frowned.

“You shouldn’t bloody smoke. We’ve talked about it. You told me you quit.”

“Papa—”

“Do you want to end up like me?” His bloodshot eyes flashed at him. “Do you?”

Hux counted to one, two, three, telling himself not to take the bait as he laced his fingers over his knees. “You shouldn’t work yourself up,” he advised.

“Damn right I shouldn’t!” Brendol yelled. Hux briefly flinched. “My heart might stop if I do that,” Brendol bellowed on, “because it’s working too darn hard as it is to keep my lungs from exploding; that’s what my condition _entails_ , thank you very much! I’m not here for your cursed advice! I’m not here for your lies! When were you going to tell me about Hosnian Prime?”

“It did not concern you,” Hux said evenly, knuckles turning white as he held onto his knees too hard.

“You ungrateful little shit!”

“I think I better get going.” He got to his feet, and adjusted his tie, hoping it would help him to even out his expression of bitter disappointment, as well. Brendol snarled at him, but he chose to ignore it. _Out, out_. For both of their sake’s. He had quite enough of his father’s abuse disguised as concern. He’s swallowed too much of it; it was always bittersweet and syrupy, making him sick.

“You coward!” Brendol shouted after him as he walked to the door, back rigid but shoulders sloped. “You’re killing yourself!”

Hux ignored the rest. He kept on an impassive face, the pendrive burning his waistcoat’s pocket like a promise. He knew that if it turned out to be a fake, it’d crush him to pieces. He messaged Brendol’s doctor that he left his father in a fury and that he was sorry, and then he called a cab.

He definitely wasn’t biting his nails while choking on angry tears on the back seat.

 

* * *

 

By the time he reached the First Order headquarters, he was more or less composed again, although he didn’t trust his voice just yet, so he merely nodded to the employees who greeted him. He felt safe here, snug like a cog in a perfectly operating machine. The corridors seemed to open up for him, and even riding the lift felt like flying. He turned a familiar corner to his office, and stopped dead on his tracks.

It was filled with…pink. He blinked.

“Sir!” Thanisson jumped to his feet behind his workstation. “There was a guy from GLS—”

“A guy,” Hux repeated. Were those balloons? Like, about a hundred balloons?

“Said these were for you,” Thanisson mumbled lamely. Hux put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, seeing no point in being angry with him, and asked:

“Do you think you could get me my Mac from there? There’s something I must check.”

 

* * *

 

Own nr: So I’ve done your job, you proper twat. You’re welcome.

*aubergine*: good morning. you got the balloons?

Own nr: Look, he’s alive!

*aubergine*: that’s what I wanted to tell you. don’t be mad.

Own nr: Next time you pre-arrange a grand apology for something you’re about to do, just don’t do the thing! Piece of advice

Own nr: Just stop doing this thing when you ghost me until you have the opportunity to make some grand gesture. I prefer reports of failure to radio silence.

Own nr: Got the balloons

Own nr: Got the pendrive

*aubergine*: my confrontation w/ rey didn’t exactly go as planned she turned on me as we crossed grosvernor’s square and just suckerpunched me in the face when no one was looking??? knocked me out co

*aubergine*: wait u got the pendrive??

*aubergine*: how?? rey’s friends got the pendrive!!

Own nr: She knocked you out?! What?!

*aubergine*: did u fight w/ her?

Own nr: No, I did not, that’s not a thing that happens

Own nr: Where are you?

*aubergine*: in a hospital

*aubergine* nyc, ny, us

Own nr: Jesus, are you hurt?

*aubergine*: yeah

*aubergine*: I mean no

Own nr: Can I call you?

*aubergine*: can’t really talk

*aubergine*: hurts to

*aubergine*: plus I think the guy next bed is dying or sg

Own nr: How bad is it? What did that little monster do to you?

*aubergine*: ok as I told u she knocked me out, right

*aubergine*: and I was lying there. in the rain. probs for like 5 minutes max but I got soaked through. ppl probably thought I was drunk & walked on. someone’s dog licked my face and I came to myself.

*aubergine*: called Snoke from a public phone for backup. had to lie abt why the fuck I was in London in the 1st place. told him I was following a trail. screamed at me to get my ass home asap. wanted to tell u once the issue was solved. so u wouldn’t have to worry. I promised u I’d solve it. got my men on the case but I was feeling like wet shit on the plane and it got worse and worse

*aubergine*: guess what, I’ve got pneumonia

Own nr: I’m going to hunt down everybody who’s responsible for it and make them suffer. I’ll sue the weather.

*aubergine*: I’m ok

Own nr: You should’ve called me. Before Snoke, before anybody. I would’ve wanted to help, because I care about you just as much as I care about my company. We could’ve figured something out. And you wouldn’t be dying in a faraway hospital and sending me balloons because you forgot how to send a text. I’m so not going to your funeral.

*aubergine*: not dying, I’m fine

*aubergine*: phone died

*aubergine*: in the rain

*aubergine*: fucking piece of shit

*aubergine*: I’m using a nurse’s phone now w/ my SIM. borrowed it. don’t think she’d mind

Own nr: Well you managed to contact Snoke and your men, didn’t you

*aubergine*: that was before I knew I was sick (not dying! ;))

Own nr: I’m afraid I can’t follow your logic. But anyway. What I meant to say is that I’m concerned. Not sure whether that came through, because I’d also like to strangle you.

Own nr: And I want to go see you. I really-really want to.

*aubergine*: will u?

Own nr: Can’t.

*aubergine*: yeah, figured

Own nr: I’m sorry. It’s all so complicated.

*aubergine* it’s ok < 3

*aubergine*: so tell me abt the pendrive. it’s legit?

Own nr: Yes. I’ll tell you everything in detail over the phone. Wouldn’t want to have it in writing on a stranger’s device

*aubergine*: gotcha. will delete messages tho but probs safer if u call once I’ve stopped coughing my lungs out

*aubergine*: so.

*aubergine*: u never heard the song 99 luftballons?

*aubergine*: it’s in german & I’m making a wild guess here but I have reasons 2 believe it’s abt 99 luftballons

Own nr: No, it’s about the Cold War

*aubergine*: what

 

* * *

 

Two weeks passed, and he still couldn’t bring himself to tell Ren about his meet-up with Amidala. It would be easier and more proper to do it in person, preferably in bed. He didn’t want to upset him (he was ill, for fuck’s sake, and then he was recovering, and then he was back to work and flooded, and then, and then, and then). He had no idea what sore spot he might accidentally press on. He came up with a lousy lie of an anonymous find, which got Ren totally worked up; he kept inventing alarmingly complex conspiracy theories regarding who would just _mail_ the pendrive to the First Order, and how it was certainly a trap; some of his ideas were frankly genius.

Hux pretended not to be bothered. The Order was safe, and Hosnian Prime had been demolished, which sent the Resistance into a spin, as expected. Amidala’s possible motivations kept him up at night, sure, but it was just one more reason to keep the truth from Ren. Amidala was dangerous, her mystery seemingly unsolvable; so Hux decided to let the issue rest. Easier said than done. It was eating him up. Ren complained that Snoke was treating him like shit, and Hux found himself taking Snoke’s side, because that was the opposite of what Amidala wanted; but it made Ren feel betrayed and send pouty selfies. One of them was captioned “u don’t love me :(” and it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

Hux was big enough to admit that he needed help, so he turned to a person whom he employed to understand how humans worked: Phasma from HR. It only took them three hours in total to agree on a mutually convenient date, and now he was here.

Phasma’s flat had a chic and understated art deco design, each item carefully positioned to get the mood across: shades of cream and stormy blue with white flowers, curvy furniture and bold geometric patterns. The impression was somewhat ruined with all the kid’s toys lying about, bright spots of chaos in Phasma’s elegant order. Her daughter Pepper came running at approximately 220m/h to greet Hux, yelling at the top of her lungs:

“Kitty!”

She smashed into his legs, grabbed his knees and, throwing her head back, shouted up at him:

“Kitty!”

Hux frowned, confused. Pepper’s dark eyes were full with hope.

“Oh,” he blurted out, “oh no, sorry, I haven’t brought Millicent with me.”

Pepper’s smile turned upside down. She was still holding onto him, and gave him a careful yank. She was a cute kid; Hux rather appreciated her stubbornness, when it was not aimed at him. Phasma came jogging, still in her work clothes, lipstick immaculate. Hux had gone home to put on a different suit for their meetup: a checkered navy jacket with white slacks, and he began to feel slightly underdressed. Pepper had a UFO themed jumper on, but that didn’t really count.

“Sweetie,” Phasma said, hauling her up to high heavens, “Millie is a very busy kitty! I’m so sorry, honey, she couldn’t make it. You know, she has some kitty business to do. What does a kitty do? What does a kitty do, hm?”

“She, uh, she eats mouses.”

“Mice,” Hux chimed in. “She mostly eats catfood, though.”

“She has to eat a lot!” Phasma made a compromise, and signalled Hux to come in. He was clutching a bottle of bourgogne pinot noir; if Phasma was on parenting duty today, they won’t be drinking; not much, anyway.

“Where’s Unamo?” he asked, and followed Phasma and co. to the spacious living room.

“Mummy’s working,” Pepper answered.

“Left for a conference in Berlin, the lucky you-know-what,” Phasma smirked, and put Pepper down to the sofa. She immediately started crawling away. “So it’s just me and the little one.”

Hux placed the wine to the glass table. He saw Phasma’s eyes flash with appreciation. “How are you holding up?”

“Musn’t grumble,” Phasma shrugged, and dropped down bodily next to Pepper, who was hanging off the armrest. She pulled her back into her lap with practiced ease; Pepper shrieked with delight, and Phasma ruffled up her fringe. “Were having lots of fun, aren’t we, dilly-boo? I’m so happy that fiasco with the pendrive is over; it was a proper disaster — but I’m sure you had it worse than I did.”

“It affected us all,” Hux said as he made himself comfortable, earning a smirk from Phasma.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Just the other night, if you must know.”

“I mean, properly.”

 _On a rainy day, clinging to Ren, talking about hurricanes_. He shouldn’t say that. It was such a fragile, precious secret. He laced his fingers over his knees. “I’m fine,” he said. Pepper slipped away from Phasma again and trotted to her room. The door slammed. Hux jumped, but Phasma didn’t even wince.

“You didn’t come here because you’re fine,” she said sternly. “You brought booze; that means you get a free hour on my couch to moan, and then we’ll open this bottle and drown our sorrows like civilised people. Deal?”

Hux held up his hands in surrender.

“I still think you should see a therapist,” Phasma noted.

“Out of the question. I have too many secrets and responsibilities. I can’t just babble about my problems to a stranger; seventy percent of them are directly related to the Order.”

“They wouldn’t ask for our tax returns.”

Pepper came back, carrying a Hello Kitty make-up purse. She climbed the sofa Hux was lounging on, and grinned up at him, then started searching the contents of the purse with a very serious face.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Phasma went on, “you deserve to relax. I’ve heard Abdul Mahajan is in town.” She raised her eyebrows. “Freshly divorced.”

“Please,” Hux scoffed. Pepper grabbed his left hand, and attacked it with glitter nail polish. “Oh, am I going to be pretty?” Hux asked.

“Gotta look good for Mr. Mahajan,” Phasma sang.

“Shu— Hold your noise.”

“It’s okay, Pepper knows how to say shut up,” Phasma waved it away, and Pepper repeated proudly:

“Shut up!”

“Last time Mr. Mahajan…enjoyed my company, it was what, February? I don’t even think he remembers me.” _Maybe certain body parts_ , he thought. Mahajan was a self-confessed and very, _very_ enthusiastic cock connoisseur.

“Heard he still has an appetite for ginger.” Phasma tapped her nose. Hux rolled his eyes. “Don’t be _blasé_ with me, son, not after a full week of gushing over his hair.”

“He has really nice hair,” Hux admitted. “Shame he keeps it short. He’s also witty and patient and open-minded, up to…challenges, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested.”

“You’re not interested,” Phasma repeated with a very different intonation.

“Right hand,” Pepper requested. Hux obeyed, a bit hot under his collar. Phasma leant forward, ready to attack.

“You have somebody,” she said.

“What makes you think that?” Hux scowled; Phasma was not easily intimidated.

“Oh holy...cow,” she grinned.

“Hold still,” Pepper chided him. Hux glanced down at his glittery nails.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered.

“Like hell. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

“At Cambridge,” Hux answered readily, “but he had to leave to Switzerland and things got…interesting with the boat club captain, so I wasn’t very tempted to follow him. He broke my heart, anyway.”

“And ever since then, you could trust no man,” Phasma finished dramatically.

“I was just not interested in the concept of a relationship. Besides, I’m very busy—”

“Like Millie,” Pepper interrupted. She deemed her work ready, and dropped Hux’s hand. He smiled a rather exasperated smile.

“Yes. Exactly like my cat.”

“Who is he?” Phasma demanded.

Hux shook his head, ears a bit red. “You don’t know him.”

“No one does,” Phasma announced, getting to her feet and grabbing the bottle of wine. “He’s a mysterious, dark stranger, with long hair and eyes promising trouble, and what a smile, god…!”

Hux kept still, trying not to look terrified, because it was an alarmingly accurate description. Pepper giggled as Phasma raised the bottle above her head, expression mock-possessed.

“He creeps into your room on dark and stormy nights,” Phasma hammed her monologue up. “He comes in through the window with a singular goal in his head: to allure his beloved!”

“I wish,” Hux mumbled, and maybe he sounded a bit more sad than he intended, because Phasma lowered the bottle, looking a bit guilty and solemn.

“It’s not going well?” she asked.

“I lied to him,” Hux said. “I lied to you as well, while we’re at it. Uhm.”

“That’s bad,” Pepper interrupted. She stretched over Hux’s knees, probably getting ready to take a nap after all her hard work.

“Yes, lying is very, very bad. Thank you for my nails; they’re gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome,” Pepper muttered, closing her eyes. “You’re pretty now.”

Hux wanted to pat her head or something, but his nails were still drying.

“Confess up, you pretty little liar,” Phasma said, and then swiftly apologised, “Sorry, my better half is obsessed with the show. Don’t tell her I told you.”

Hux made the zippers-over-lips motion, very carefully. He let out a sigh. “I know who got us the pendrive back.”

“Oh, that? Well, we all know anonymous means confidential—”

“It was Padmé Amidala.”

Phasma’s jaw dropped. “She isn’t dead?”

“No,” Hux frowned, “she’s just retired.”

“I’d die if I had to retire,” Phasma mumbled, and finally sat down again, on the armrest. She hugged the bottle to her chest.

“She gave it back because she doesn’t want the First Order to face lawsuits while her grandson is still a CEO,” Hux summed up. “He’d probably get ten years, or more. She wants me to get him fired.”

“What, Kylo Ren? Sure, go for it.”

Hux made a face. “Why?”

“Because he’s a jerk,” Phasma scoffed. “The walking and talking definition of unprofessionalism. A bloody _nouveau riche._ I didn’t know that category still existed, but, well, look at him. I wanted to send him death threats after our e-mail exchanges. He only uses lowercase and refuses to type out any word longer than four syllables.”

“I think that’s a stylistic choice,” Hux offered. Phasma rolled her eyes.

“An _insulting_ one. And then I met him in person—well not me personally, it was a team thing; you get me—and I kid you not, he arrived ten minutes late _with a Starbucks_ , sunglasses on, hungover as all hell.”

“How was I not there?”

“It was in Tokyo.”

“Ah, yes.” Hux licked his lips. “Well, I suppose he was jetlagged.”

“We all were. Except the Mitakas, of course. Anyway, he proceeded to make love to Mandetat—”

“He _made love_ to Mandetat?”

“To put it mildly,” Phasma tipped her head to Pepper, who twitched in her light sleep. “I was next door, and we’re talking about really thin slide-doors and even thinner walls, and I listened to the whole thing, a life-changing experience, let me tell you, and the next day— well, guess who showed up five minutes late with a Costa like a moron and hates herself for it, but she didn’t get any sleep?” She pointed at herself. Hux couldn’t really see her clearly. Apparently, his eyes welled up. “Oh damn. What’s wrong? What, you’re dating Mandetat?”

“Not him,” he grit out. Phasma covered her mouth with her palm, and whispered a very soft “ _Fuck_.” Hux really wanted to get up, walk to the bathroom, wash his face and calm the hell down, but Pepper was still using him as furniture, so he had to suffer the humiliation of a tear rolling down his face as he sniffed.

“I didn’t mean— Huh. So. Admittedly, I don’t know Ren really well,” Phasma said. “And his past actions don’t necessarily predict his current behaviour; also, I’m sure that that thing with Mandetat was a one-night affair.”

“I’m not jealous,” Hux hiccuped. “I wouldn’t expect _him_ to hold my past against me, but for the record, rolling around with _Mandetat_ speaks of a banal taste I don’t really associate with the Ren I came to know rather well, he’s that _bland_ sort of good-looking, you get me?”

“He has good bone structure,” Phasma said. “Yours is better.”

He tipped his head back and tried to blink away the tears. “Anyway,” he told the chandelier, “it’s just stress. Obviously, we’re keeping it a secret. And it’s long-distance. And it’s also very new. And remember the pink balloons I said I ordered to raise awareness of breast cancer?”

“Yeah?”

“Those were from him.”

“He sent you balloons to raise awareness of breast cancer?” Phasma asked, baffled. He let out a shaky laugh.

“No, it was a shitty cover-up— By me, I mean. He has these annoying romantic gestures, and he’s really _so much,_ but I can’t get enough; do you know what my wildest fantasy is?” He looked at Phasma, who shot a worried glance at Pepper. “My wildest and very PG fantasy is that he’s ill and I’m taking care of him,” Hux confessed. “I imagine myself making him chicken soup and wiping his sweaty forehead. I think I’m going insane. He got pneumonia recently, and I couldn’t even send him a get-well card; or wouldn’t, I don’t know. I can’t express myself very well when it’s about emotions. It comes so easily to him. He lives his life like it was a movie. It’s like he always knows what to do or what to say to make me happy, and I just can’t keep up.”

“Have you ever discussed this with him?” Phasma asked, still looking like she really needed the drink she was holding. Hux signalled her to get it open.

“I’m not sure I could,” he admitted.

Phasma popped the cork with her bare hands, and offered the bottle to Hux. He grabbed it, minding his glitter-sticky fingers, and took a painful gulp.

“You have to try,” Phasma said.

Hux frowned as he swallowed, and passed the wine back, heaving choked breaths. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy, I was— It’s only gotten complicated very recently, with the whole business with his grandmother. We’ve been so lucky so far. It’s the longest we’ve been apart, and it’s driving me rather crazy. I just want to be with that idiot, but I’m not a child; I know the world won’t obey my whims, that—”

“Please,” Phasma interrupted. “Please. Talk to him.”

“We talk every day.”

“Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean. Promise me you’ll talk to your horrible boyfriend.” She handed him the bottle again, and he raised it for a toast.

“I promise I’ll talk to my amazing boyfriend.”

Phasma smiled softly, and Hux squeezed his eyes shut and chugged down a good portion.

“You’re very thirsty,” Pepper mumbled, and he almost spat out everything.

 

* * *

 

He made progress in the evening by sending Ren a text which read “Goodnight, Ren, I’m thinking about you.” Waking up he realised it actually said “Gpodbight Ren thinkif abput you” and contained more emojis than absolutely necessary; he blamed the wine. Ren had replied with a “for fuck’s sake catch some Zs” and a kissy face.

Work before noon was pleasantly uneventful; he had a meeting, two conference calls, some time to review reports and a personal interview with Mandetat, where he told him his employment had been terminated. His face wasn’t that pretty when he was crying. Then he asked Thanisson to grab him some lunch from Vivat Bacchus, and he was happily dipping the best grilled sea trout in town into a minted pea pureé. He checked his phone, and almost choked on a stray samphire. Ren had sent him a video almost an hour ago. He opened it greedily.

The shaky image of Ren’s flushed face filled the screen; he was taking a morning jog in Central park, gloriously sweaty and panting, tight blue jacket zipped down to allow a good view on his glistening chest.

“It’s cold as balls!” he announced, and Hux mumbled, unable to take his eyes off his bouncing pecs, “Zip it up; you’ll catch your death.”

“...a personal record, and guess what, I ran into your family?”

Hux lowered his fork very slowly. Ren spun the camera around, and zoomed in on a group of rabbits in the dewy grass.

“Fucking unbelievable,” Ren heaved. “You have relatives everywhere. Said hi. I think they like me.” He turned the camera back to himself, and raked his fingers through his damp hair. “I think we should invite them over for dinner, huh? Love you, bye.”

Hux was met with his own dreamy expression reflected on the black screen. He peered up, looking around in the office through the glass walls; most of his employees were out, trying to make the most of their forty minutes break. He rewound the video, and watched it again and again; just seeing Ren made his chest tight, although he was really worried about Ren running around technically half-naked. He checked the weather report for New York; 19°C, but sunny. _Put on something,_ he typed out, deleted it, let out a heavy breath, counted to ten, and set to type again.

Own nr: We need to talk. Can you facetime me?

Own nr: (NOT a breakup message!)

Own nr: Relationship maintenance. No need to worry. Although I do have some bad news, I think

Own nr: Physically I’m perfectly healthy. I’m anaemic but that’s nothing to worry about, I’m taking my vitamins. Also, I can upset my stomach very easily. Right now I’m fine. Haven’t slept much.

He was about to apologise for being such a bother, but Ren sent him a request for a video call. He accepted it without thinking, and greeted him with all the chins the angle he was holding his phone showed.

“Shit! Hi, sorry. I didn’t mean you should facetime me _right now_.”

Ren grinned. He was utterly gorgeous, hair freshly washed and fluffy, his pinstripe suit perfect with a paisley tie. It almost distracted Hux from the fact that Ren was sitting in a car.

“Good morning, sunshine!”

“Are you in a taxi?”

“No, it’s my car; I’m just not driving it. What’s up?”

Hux bit his lower lip. “I’d much rather discuss it later.”

“Fuck, you’re extremely kissable today.” Ren tilted his head, and handed over the phone to the chauffeur. “Look at my extremely kissable boyfriend!”

“Oh my god,” Hux hissed, covering his face with his hands. He heard a polite female voice saying “ _He looks very nice_ , _sir,_ ” and then Ren’s proud chuckle. He dared to peer back at the screen, which was once again showing Ren.

“You said you have some bad news,” Ren said. “I would rather not delay hearing it. So it absolutely does _not_ concern your health, yeah?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“So you’re not pregnant, then,” Ren concluded, and Hux barked out a surprised laugh. “Hah! That was a smile!”

“If I was blessed by the Almighty Lord and carried the fruit of your loins, this is how you’d treat me, the father of your children? Dumming the joyful tidings _bad news_?”

“No, I do want kids, in the long run, though I suppose we’d have to look into other methods than praying for a miracle.” Hux thought about Pepper, and Kylo went on: “Anyway, I suppose you didn’t call me to talk about family and whatnot.”

“Actually, yes, I did. In a way.”

Ren looked puzzled. It was almost comical. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“I wasn’t being honest with you when I said that the pendrive was an anonymous find.”

“I know,” Ren shrugged. “I knew you lied. Didn’t really care. Supposed you did it to spare my feelings, since it would’ve been my job to get it; I tried to play along and give you a better cover-up story, but you weren’t having it.” He winked at him, but the smile he had on looked forced. His easy manner hurt Hux more than a screaming match would have.

“I apologise. I—” He shook his head. “I really felt I had to, mm, conceal the truth.”

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“Do you trust your driver?”

Ren frowned. “With my life. She’s getting me through New York traffic. Why?”

“Your grandmother gave it to me.”

Ren’s face darkened. “I’ll have to call you back.” The screen turned to black.

Hux told himself not to panic. Of course Ren wasn’t taking it very well; the whole reason he didn’t tell him in the first place was because he knew he wouldn’t. He looked at his plate, and realised he wasn’t hungry anymore. Nevertheless, he took a bite of his dessert: a bar of caramel-filled chocolate. That was not food; that was emotional support. He was hardly finished with it when Ren called him again. He hesitated taking it, then frowned and hit accept. They were grown men; they could talk about it like adults.

“Sorry about that,” Ren said, storming through the vast lobby of the First Order Tower. “I had to think it over. What does she know? Morning.” He gave a high-five to the receptionist, who greeted him with a huge smile.

“She doesn’t know about us,” Hux confirmed, hoping that Ren’s phone would keep at least his part of the conversation private. Ren gave a high-five to the cleaning lady as well, and grumbled:

“Okay, that’s— Okay, that’s what I was afraid of. Why did she come to you, then? Of all people?”

“She heard we were mortal enemies.”

Ren laughed sharply and entered the bright lift. Somebody seemed to follow, so he covered the screen and said, “Sorry, could I have the elevator just for me? It’s a very important call— I owe you. Thanks.” The doors closed with a soft chime, and he raised up his phone again. “My family means nothing to me,” he said. “They all abandoned Grandfather when he needed them the most. They’re all traitors.”

“She wants you to leave the First Order,” Hux summed up. It was almost easy—just a couple of words—potentially damaging and dangerous, but now that they were out there, he felt lighter.

“That’s rich,” Ren spat. “Why the fuck would I do that? I love it here; they love me. I have you. If Snoke stopped being a pain in the ass — you didn’t mean that my personal interests shouldn’t interfere with orders from Chairman Snoke, did you? When you said that.”

“Of course not.”

“She can’t tell me how to live my life.” Ren rolled his eyes, the spoilt brat coming out for a second. The lift’s door opened, and he slipped out. “So that’s the big secret?”

“As you can imagine, I was rather shocked. Also, I was afraid how it might affect you.”

“I want to kill somebody. How are you?”

Hux sighed inaudibly. Ren made his way through a corridor, fuming, mumbling something Hux didn’t quite catch, but which seemed to contain only swear words with the occasional article. He stopped by a sleek metal table, where a smartly dressed young man was just unpacking his satchel. The camera then turned to a water dispenser, and Ren’s voice sounded a bit far-off.

“Hey, Slip, can you tell me when’s my earliest meeting?”

“Eight fifteen, boss.”

“Can you push that back by thirty? Important call.”

“I’m on it.”

“Thank you; you’re the best. Do not disturb, please?”

Hux then saw the pixely vertigo of Ren’s office: an industrial design with worn leather chairs, an immense book shelf, huge loudspeakers, a jungle’s worth of plants, and something which looked like decorative armour. The phone was tossed to Ren’s massive desk, and then Hux heard screaming and something smashing. Then there was music. If he guessed right, Elvis Presley. He glanced at his wristwatch; still got twenty minutes. Ren dropped to the desk, and picked up the phone.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just can’t believe my fucking family. Like, can you believe them?”

“I’m gaining more and more proof of their continued existence,” Hux said. Ren laughed, weakly, and messed up his perfect hair in a nervous gesture.

“I really gotta chill. It doesn’t matter. Fuck them. I just hate that they’re dragging you into this.”

“I’m kind of their arch-enemy,” Hux comforted him. Tried to, anyway.

“That’s Snoke. I guess you’re Nemesis Number Two. So, if you see Snoke fall, run.”

That was two out of two Skywalkers with the same suggestion. He didn’t comment on it. “If he falls, it’s because I’ve pushed him off a cliff. Don’t worry.”

“Are we conspiring?” Ren asked, amused. “I don’t actually...wish him ill. I have so much to thank him for, but the whole thing with Rey and her stupid friends...he wasn’t handling it well.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

There was a moment of companionable silence; they were just looking at each other, Hux feeling like he could fly.

“So you’re not cross with me?” he asked, just to be sure.

“Mm.” Kylo pouted. “I’m a bit mad, to be honest. I understand why you lied to me, but you were taking away my right of choice by protecting me. You could’ve said, ‘I’ve got some upsetting news involving your family; are you ready to hear it?’ and I would’ve thought it over.”

“Understood. Can I make up for it?”

Kylo licked his lips, thinking. “Would you enjoy it if I spanked you?”

“Would I _enjoy_ it?” he sputtered.

“Yeah.” Kylo narrowed his eyes at him.

“It wouldn’t be punishment if I enjoyed myself too much, would it?”

“It wouldn’t be to punish you; it would be to teach you a lesson. And even if it’s punishment, you should at least be into it and give your consent.”

Hux frowned. “I don’t think that’s my cup of tea.”

“No spanking,” Ren raised his free hand, like a good scout boy.

“Maybe we could experiment later, with a more casual, lax approach, but...I don’t feel ready now.”

“That’s okay. What would you have me do, then?”

Hux looked around. People were starting to pour back to their places, although there was still some time left. Bloody workaholics and overachievers like himself. He couldn’t help but smile proudly, and turned back to the screen.

“Are we doing this?”

“What would _I_ be doing,” Ren purred.

“I don’t know; what would you like to do? I’m in my office.”

“Figured. Nice skyline. If I was there, I wouldn’t be seeing much of it. I’d climb under your mahogany desk—”

“Oh, are you going to give me a blowjob? Not very original.” He parted his knees nevertheless. Ren couldn’t see it; it was out of frame.

“I’m giving you something better. You invite in your client, someone very important. I pull down your pants as you talk with him, trying to get a deal across. I get my fingers wet, and start fucking your little hole with them.”

“That’d require me to sit rather leisurely,” Hux chimed in. “Also, it wouldn’t be fair to the poor gentleman, risking exposing him to such filth.”

“He doesn’t exist,” Ren reassured him. “And you’re getting wet from my spit.”

“Fuck.”

“He leaves. He doesn’t suspect anything. I’ve been working on your hole so long, it’s so wet and loose.”

“My office has glass walls,” Hux said. “They would—”

“No one is looking. I don’t know, it’s dark. Would you like that? There’s darkness and I’m fingering you in the empty building, after your late night guest has left—”

“I’m never—”

“Shh. You’re taking it so well. I can fit three of my fingers in easily. I’m tapping at your prostate, just how you like it - a light pressure, almost a tickle. Would you like to come like this? Stretched over my fingers, pants pooling around your legs? In your chair? Same one you sit in every day?”

“I rarely work at the weekends,” Hux corrected. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Ren’s eyes widened. “Are we doing a watersports scene?”

“No! No. I’m— fuck, I’m getting hard. Here. Now. And it’s my lunch break so people tend to just waltz in.”

“I got you hard just by my words?” Ren teased, dropping his voice.

“Your face had something to do with it at well. You look obscene.”

Ren bit his lips. “Find an empty conference room. Lock the door.” He ended the call.

“Fuck,” Hux mouthed. He glanced at his pressed trousers; he wasn’t tenting them, per se, but they were tight enough to leave little to the imagination. He cursed and grabbed his Macbook. He was holding it in front of his crotch like a shield as he left his office, trying to play it off casually. Thanisson dropped his chopsticks and jumped to attention, still munching on a sizeable prawn dumpling.

“At ease,” Hux waved to him. “I’m just sneaking out to practice my speech in private. Could you give me a card for Conference Room F, please?”

“Of course, sir,” Thanisson saluted, and got it from a secured drawer. “Which speech it is, if I may ask?”

“The one that is giving me a headache.”

“Well, if you want me to proofread it, I can absolutely do that.” He handed over the card, and Hux forced on a reassuring smile.

“Much appreciated.”

Thanisson turned his attention back to his wonton, and Hux marched away at a reasonable speed. He was out of breath when he reached the conference room and keyed himself in. It was the same one they had the emergency meeting in when the pendrive scandal blew up; he walked to the desk Ren had bent him over to play with his arse. He settled the Macbook on it and pulled out a steel chair for himself as he started a call. He was bathed in buttery sunlight pouring in from the see-through ceiling. It was a good lighting on him, making his face look sharper and his lips darker; he should have Skype sex in this room more often, he decided.

Ren greeted him with a hungry smile, sitting on the desk where he left him. He must’ve found a tripod for his phone, because the image was no longer shaky. “That was quick,” Ren commented.

“Shut up.” He reached for his belt, and Ren tsked.

“Uh-huh. You owe me a show. Your tie first.”

“I don’t think we have the time.”

“Your tie,” Ren demanded, and had the audacity to snap his fingers. It went straight to Hux’s cock. He started undoing the Windsor knot, and Ren hummed his appreciation. “Feel the silk caressing your fingers. Now your vest— no, not the jacket, I said _vest_. Now the ivory shirt. You know what I want to see. Show them to me.” 

Hux bared his nipples, holding his shirt open, heart beating fast. He knew they were hard, begging to be touched.

“Beautiful,” Ren said. “Stroke them— just with your palms, run them through your lovely chest. Now squeeze. Look at those firm little titties.”

“From a biological point of view, I don’t have—”

“Have you ever had them fucked?”

“Once or twice. I’d been wearing a bralette. Gave the guy ideas.”

“I bet,” Ren growled. “You will put on a bralette for me, right? Next time. Something lacey, I think. Pinch them now. Oh yeah. That’s where I’ll bite them and suck them. Then I’ll fuck your chest, come all over your pretty neck. Would you like that?”

“Why don’t you join in?” Hux asked, fixing Ren’s shirt with his gaze. He wanted to see it part for him, to see those gorgeous pectorals and the hard muscles revealed.

“This is all about you now, Armitage,” Ren said, flicking his lapels playfully. “This stays on. Come on now, I want to see what slutty panties you’re wearing.”

“Not fair,” Hux complained, but he got up nevertheless.

“Turn around. Show me that tight ass.”

“It’s nothing much,” Hux said, unbuttoning his trousers and lowering them to his knees. Nothing much was an understatement: his knickers were virtually nonexistent, three stripes of fabric tied to a jewel heart. Ren groaned.

“I can’t believe you go to work in these.”

“Makes me feel confident.”

“Of course they do. They show off your peachy ass. Bend over. Grab your cheeks — _really_ grab them, get two fistfuls. Aren’t they exquisitely soft? Knead them. Come on, _I_ would. That’s it. Oh, they’re getting pink.”

“That tends to happen,” Hux gritted. The position was very awkward, but he hoped it’d at least give Ren a good look. He sounded very pleased.

“Spread them for me. Get that string out of the way, I want to see… There it is. Can’t wait to get my mouth on it, to lick it for you.”

“Fuck,” Hux sighed.

“I loved eating you out. Getting you dripping wet for me. I’ll prepare you for my cock like this, make you nice and loose, make you come, use that with the lube. Fuck you while you’re still shaking with your previous orgasm. _Turn_.”

The lace in the front could hardly contain his erection; it was standing at attention, so hard it was paining him.

“Pinch the tip, carefully.”

Hux obeyed; precome dripped down the slit, making him whimper.

“I love your cock so much,” Ren said, his eyes burning through him. “I love to touch it, taste it, smell it, suck it. Get it in your hand. Did you bring lube or any other kind of lotion?”

“I didn’t,” Hux forced out.

“It might hurt a bit. But you want it to hurt, right? You think you deserve it. But we’re not doing it to punish you. You did what you thought best at the time. You’re also not really into discipline and punishment.”

“I liked the Foucault book, although he tends to be sloppy with his research.”

“Yeah, he had some massive overgeneralizations,” Ren mused. “Y’know what else is massive?”

“Please don’t finish that sentence; just pretend we never mentioned Foucault.”

“Back to duty,” Ren said, grinning. “Pull the panties down to the base; keep them there. They’ll squeeze you a bit; I think you’ll like it. Now spit.”

Hux would usually just lick his fingers. He spat, most of his saliva ending up on his chin, and lowered his hands above his cock, awaiting orders. Ren looked him up and down, appreciative, then met his eyes.

“Go wild.”

Hux grasped his cock and started pumping it so furiously that he had to take a hold of the chair with his free hand, almost toppling over. It felt so good, with Ren watching him and controlling his motions: _Can you go faster? I think you can_.

“Love the nails, by the way.”

“Turns out I don’t have nail polish remover at home,” Hux panted. “I’ve been playing it off as a fashion choice the whole day.”

“It isn’t that, huh? Is it in preparation for Halloween?”

“No, I don’t do Halloween.”

“You’re missing out. It’s my favourite holiday.”

“It’s not a holiday.”

Ren clicked his tongue. “Stop.”

“You can’t make me _stop_ just because I’m voicing criticism—”

“Stop, crack your wrist, resume at a gradual pace.”

Hux obeyed, pouting. “I’ll send you a greeting card and some candy,” he mumbled.

“That’d be very nice of you. Have you ever uploaded a video of yourself doing this? I could watch it all day. You look like a dream.”

“I wouldn’t compromise myself like that.” Hux twisted the shaft, and gasped. “Fhu— Should I send that greeting card as a video message?”

“Oh yeah. I’m still getting candies, though.”

“No, you don’t. You’ve been wicked.” He twisted his cock again, and his knees buckled. He dropped down to the chair, no longer able to stand.

“ _You_ ’ve been wicked,” Ren shot back.

“We can both be wicked,” Hux allowed, spreading his legs as far as his trousers would allow him. His hips twitched, dry fist flying over his pulsing cock.

“Are you close?”

“Very.”

“Can you come for me?”

“Mm, might? Fuck, fuck, fuck…!”

“Armitage.”

He looked up, looked into Ren’s eyes, hand keeping its pace. “What?”

“Come for me,” Ren said softly. Four more pulls, and he screamed his orgasm, kicking out and then throwing his head back. It was sudden and brief, but left him an utter fucking mess. He managed to catch most of his come in his palm, the rest ending up on the floor. He was staring at it, blinking, hearing Ren saying, “Pocket square.”

“What?”

“Use your pocket square.”

“No, it’s cashmere, it cost me fifty-seven pounds.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “And it’s just sitting around in your pocket.”

Hux sniffed, offended, but got it out with his free hand. He cleaned his palm, head still spinning with the force of his orgasm.

“That’s a good boy. Don’t button up just yet. Clean the floor.”

“I can never use this again,” Hux mumbled, mopping up with his shirt undone and dick hanging out, but if this was some peculiar kink of Ren’s, so be it.

“You could mail it to me.”

“Ew, gross.”

“I didn’t say you _have to_ ,” Ren shrugged. Hux rolled the handkerchief to a ball, and tossed it to the trashcan. Was it incriminating evidence? He’d have to bury it under all the paper cups and sandwich wraps. “May I make myself decent?”

“Could you stroke your cock for me first?”

“I just came.”

“Indulge me. Please?”

Hux made a face, and ran his fingers over his limp member as he sat back on his heels. He hissed. His touch felt achingly good, sending pins and needles through his skin.

“One more time. That’s it. Suck on a finger. Tease it up to the tip.”

“ _Ahh!_ ”

“That’s all I wanted,” Ren flashed a wide smile. “Tuck it away. Gently. How does the lace feel against it?”

“Nngh!”

“Button up. You don’t have much time left. Thank you for the experience. Feeling better?”

“I— Yeah, obviously, yes. You?”

Ren tilted his head. His eyes were clouded over. He must’ve been rock hard by now, if he didn’t manage to come in his pants untouched. “I’m kinda sad that this is not my actual job. Making you come undone. I’d love that.”

“Should I return the favour?” Hux asked, fastening his tie.

“Mm, I would love you to, but yeah. Time-zones. Responsibilities. Ugh.”

“Yeah,” Hux mumbled, hand hesitating over his tie pin. He was undeniably ready. It was time to say goodbye and leave. He found he couldn’t do that. “Uhm, Ren?”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh. Usually take bonfire night off. I mean, the whole day. The fifth of November. Millicent is scared shitless of the fireworks and I love to be with her. If, well. If I could bring her with — could I come visit?”

“Of fucking course,” Ren blurted out.

“I don’t think Snoke would suspect anything, and it’s followed by a weekend this year; that’d give us roughly three days.”

“I don’t think I can take the fifth off, not without Snoke ripping me a new one, but you— I could pick you up at the airport and give you a key? And we’d have the whole weekend for ourselves and I’d cook for you and we could go to the beach, and. Fuck. Yes. I mean—”

“It’s a date,” Hux said, a genuine smile curling up his lips. Ren laughed, somewhat dazed, and announced:

“It’s a date!”

“See you on the fifth,” Hux whispered, and touched the screen reverently. Ren put his fingers to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warnings:** verbal abuse from worst father of the decade Brendol Hux / argument detailing Brendol’s lung condition (pulmonary hypertension) / past sexual partners of Hux and Ren mentioned / Hux fires an employee who did nothing wrong / jokes about (fictitious) male pregnancy and watersports / fantasy involving having sex half-hidden from an unsuspecting stranger (who is swiftly released from the fantasy) / a brief discussion about spanking / Ren being rather controlling
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** the series won't involve major character death; don't worry, their health issues are not foreshadowings
> 
> // this chapter was written before the _Phasma_ novel got published  
>  The beta is still the queen of longfic, [Gefionne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne)
> 
> We've got some stunning fanart:  
> * [Jeusus](http://jeusus.tumblr.com/post/161673792568/im-making-pancakes-ren-called-from-by-the) is serving topless pancake action from the pervious installment, _A Certain Level of Vulnerability_ \- isn't it delicious?  
>  * [littlestarfighter](http://littleststarfighter.tumblr.com/post/162825301312/for-bonamana-and-longstoryshortikilledhim-and) made a gourgeous set for the series, hot as a cigarette's burning end  
> You can talk to me on tumblr at [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com)


	7. A Suitable Suitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 of the Suit Porn AU, with nothing but smut and feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please refer to the end notes for **content warnings**
> 
> Recap on _When It Rains:_ Hux had to deal with Padmé Amidala, his father, and about 42 emotions, with the help of Phasma and a bottle of wine. He made a promise to work on his issues with Ren, which he started by having Skype sex with him. Good job, Hux!

*aubergine*: how’s flying 575 mph 7 miles up in the air?

Own nr: Don’t FUCKING remind me

*aubergine*: a jumbo jet diverts its weight (900,000 pounds) in air every sec

*aubergine*: I think that’s cool

*aubergine*: though it’s evidence that bernoulli’s principle & the newton laws are kinda simple explanations of like, why planes fly

*aubergine*: ppl keep forgetting abt the coanda effect

Own nr: I’m afraid I can’t have an intelligent conversation right now

Own nr: I’m about to die

Own nr: My last words won’t be about fucking Newton

*aubergine*: is fucking a verb/adjective in that sentence? ;)

Own nr: You know what? Newton could get it.

Own nr: Wild hair, check. Dark eyes, check. Rim me, Sir Isaac!

*aubergine*: thats necrophilia I’m calling the police

Own nr: I’m not sure that’s who you’ve got to call

*aubergine*: was that a ghostbusters reference

Own nr: No?

*aubergine*: lies, everything is a ghostbusters reference

*aubergine*: watcha up to

Own nr: Flying at 575 mph, as you were so kind to point out. I’m watching a Fast and Furious movie with Millicent.

*aubergine*: wow cool, which one?

Own nr: I don’t know, the one in which the chaps are both fast and furious.

*aubergine*: thats my favorite

Own nr: What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be working?

*aubergine*: I’m stuck @ a meeting

*aubergine*: it’s taking foreverrrrr

Own nr: Whom are you meeting?

*aubergine*: independent petroleum ass. ppl from oklahoma, their flight got delayed, now everything else is delayed as well & it sucks

*aubergine*: I wanted 2 tell u that I might not be able to sneak out to pick u up?

*aubergine*: is that ok?

Own nr: Of course it’s okay, you’re working, idiot!

*aubergine*: worst case scenario I’m sending my car, driver has a key she can let u in

Own nr: I’m sure I’ll figure out how to entertain myself

*aubergine*: naughty

Own nr: I was thinking about looking through BCURA research proposals, but now that you mention it…

Own nr: When shall I expect you home?

*aubergine*: 6ish? 7? I know Ive said 4 but everything is a mess. I’m so sorry fridays are usually not like this

Own nr: Don’t worry, just get shit done while I enjoy my day off

Own nr: Alone

Own nr: Nothing to keep me company but your alluringly thick bottle of Baxter, a lot of lube, and sheer determination

*aubergine*: plz don’t fuck my deodorant I’ll hurry

Own nr: Too late, I’m in love with a musk-scented challenge

 

Hux hoped against all hope that Ren might make it to the airport — his flight landed at 12:45, New York time, which (as they calculated) should’ve coincided with Ren’s lunch break. Struggling with his heavy luggage and Millicent’s carrier, he looked around the terminal, expectant, but Ren was nowhere to be found. There was a smartly dressed woman with a pink balloon waiting for him; she introduced herself as Renata Escareno and escorted him to a Rolls-Royce Phantom. Hux wagered he was the most disappointed person ever to climb into the back seat of such a glorious luxury car, but he couldn’t care less about how spacious and beautiful it was without Ren there to brag about it. His scent lingered: vanilla tobacco and that musky, warm smell which did _things_ to Hux. It had been so long since he could bury his face in Ren’s neck and smell it properly that he felt like some feral animal that had just sniffed out the most delicious pheromones. He closed his eyes and took a deep inhale unabashedly. Escareno started the car, and the radio began blaring country.

“Excuse me,” he said slowly, “could you please turn that off? It scares the cat."

Millicent was in fact high on buprenorphine to ease the anxiety of travelling, but he wasn’t in the mood for “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” now or ever. Escareno met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“You got a cat in there?”

Hux self-consciously adjusted the blanket covering Millicent’s carrier. “She’s more relaxed in the dark.”

“Can I ask what breed it is?”

“She’s a tabby.” Escareno made a surprised sound at that. Flustered, Hux added, “She’s a rescue pet.”

“Hah!” she barked out a laugh, and turned back to face him. Hux froze. He’d have preferred her to keep an eye on the traffic. “Where to?”

“Straight to Ren’s, please.”

“All right, sir.”

Hux spent the rest of the drive wondering whether he was supposed to have some bullshit pedigree cat, and why did he feel the need to live up to the presumed expectations of Ren’s chauffeur, or everybody he’s ever met. He got even more confused when Escareno offered to help him carry his stuff, and stealing a peek at Millicent, she announced that she was adorable.

Once alone in Ren’s penthouse, he was still distraught, social dis-ease, a lingering disappointment and a minor case of jetlag weighing on him. He didn’t really take in his surroundings: he just dropped his luggage and opened Millicent’s carrier, letting her come out on her own. He made a mental to-do list, and kept going through the bullet-points as he wandered to the glass walls, the view of the busy city pulling him in. He barely spared a glance to the glinting buildings, eyes seeking out the calming steel-blue of the Hudson. He got momentarily lost in watching the ships go by; he was stirred to hear Millicent meowing.

“Sorry, zoned out,” he mumbled, and turned to watch her climb under Ren’s sinfully comfortable velvet couch. He expected that she’d start by finding a hiding place, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty for dragging her along. He left her some treats and water, then set out to clean away her potty pads and put toys in strategically important places.

The moment he set foot in the classy kitchen he knew something was off. Something had changed since he’d been here; his gaze raked over copper pots, intricate wooden cabinets, the sparklingly clean counter, and strange flowers when it finally settled on Ren’s fridge. It was a monstrous thing, so big Ren could easily fit a corpse in without having to bother chopping it up; last time Hux was here, there were some flyers from local restaurants put up with magnets, and nothing else. Now he was faced with a A/4 screenshot of himself.

It was a flattering picture - of course it was; a captured moment from his half-drunk Happy Halloween video message, showing him with bunny ears, a white bra, pompom-tail knickers and high-heels, lounging over the pile of pillows he then proceeded to hump mercilessly. Ren appreciated it, so much so that he sent a video in response in which he was watching it and jerking off lazily. Of course, watching Ren watching him made him bring himself off, and long story short, they were now about ten layers deep into masturbation-meta and each revenge-porn material got obnoxiously artsy. For some reason, he thought of those videos as momentary things; the idea that Ren would not only rewatch them, but pause them, make a screenshot and print it out and _put it on his fridge_ somehow never occurred to him.

Good thing he brought the bunny outfit with him. If he didn’t die of embarrassment first, they might have a lot of fun. Once Ren got home, that is.

Biding his time, he took a long and indulgent bath, set out his toiletries, and found a loving wardrobe for his clothes, then, putting on one of Ren’s bath gowns, he settled to work on the couch, guarded by Millicent. He occasionally glanced up at the invitingly cozy leather chair he had curled up on the first night he had spent here; now he was convinced that it was cursed, that the minute he sat on it Snoke would call him and scream that his holiday got cancelled and he was expected in his office ASAP. He feared its power. It must’ve been worse than Busby’s chair.

The hours dragged on, and he eventually ran out of things to do. He cursed himself for preparing for his trip beforehand and making everything run smoothly in his absence. He made himself a tequila lime fruit salad, with the emphasis on tequila, and settled back on the couch to watch some History Channel. He found it weird that Ren owned a telly; it was a sleek, smart thing, but still looked obsolete — everybody he knew just stuck to Netflix or Hulu and a trusty projector. His attention wandered; he kept peering around the house, trying to take it all in (he was actually here, he was actually wearing Ren’s stuff and eating Ren’s stuff and using Ren’s stuff). Time flew by with _The Universe_ re-runs and wondering what it must be like to live here; he imagined Ren by the mini-bar, swaying to some classy music from his high-tech sound system; he pictured him watering the plants; lounging on a chair, reading; casually admiring the weird metallic statues; coming in from the kitchen with a mug of coffee, settling down next to him and putting his arm around his shoulder. “What are we watching,” Ren would ask, and he’d say, “everything,” as a sun exploded and the screen bled to red, and the galaxy…the galaxy...

His head tipped back, glasses sinking down his nose. His last coherent thought was putting some lingerie on and slicking himself up, waiting for Ren well-prepared, but first he’d just rest his eyes for a moment.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he heard about a century later. As he came to himself, all he could see was the dark blur of Ren’s hair as he pressed a kiss to his neck. His heart jumped.

 _Finally_.

“Hey yourself, Gorgeous the Second,” he mumbled. “What’s new?”

Ren lapped at his throat, tongue hot and wet. Hux hummed, and buried his face into the crook of Ren’s neck, earning a deep chuckle.

“Comfortable?”

“Very,” he said, discreetly drooling over Ren’s navy jacket.

“Fuck, babe, I love this. I love coming home and finding you here watching _Ancient Aliens_ —”

“No, no, no.” Hux pulled back, readjusting his glasses. “I was watching actual astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson’s award-winning documentaries, thank you very much. I must’ve dozed off.”

Ren grinned, allowing a moment of silence; the guy on the telly was busy explaining the links between Indian deity Shiva and atomic energy, and he wasn’t doing an even marginally convincing job.

“You’re watching _Ancient Aliens_ ,” Ren purred, “and you’re loving it.”

“Shut up,” Hux scoffed. Their eyes met; they leant in for a kiss at the exact moment. Both frowned at the lingering aftertaste of tequila and lime. Hux drew back, but Ren chased after him, giving him another peck on the lips and then a satisfied lick.

“Ew. You must really love me,” Hux said.

“I really do,” Ren beamed. It made Hux’s chest feel quite tight. He was waiting to be hit by the joy of finally being back together - he expected to be overwhelmed, to be tickled pink. He imagined he’d do something irrational, like tackle Ren to the ground and kiss him all night, but they were just - all right. He was cozy, content; it was like they’d never been separated, like they’d always been here, not necessarily in New York, but in each other’s company. There was nothing else he was willing to give a shit about at the moment. He cupped Ren’s face and just looked at him, really looked, because he could. Ren’s gaze warmed him all over, and he just relished the rumble of his voice when Ren said, “How’s everything? You didn’t answer my texts but Renata said she delivered you safely home, so I didn’t want to, uh, fret it. Be the textbook overbearing boyfriend and all that.”

“I rather fancy my textbook overbearing boyfriend,” Hux mused, and brushed Ren’s hair back from his forehead

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” For fuck’s sake, Ren’s hair refused to look silly no matter how much he played with it. He let it fall from his fingers and it curled into a perfect wave. It was _unjust_. He started methodically ruffling it up.

Ren asked, “Hungry?"

“A bit.”

“How about some pumpkin soup?"

“Pumpkin soup?” he repeated, absent-minded. Ren’s hair still resisted the laws of nature.

“With some ginger,” Ren grinned.

“Ha-ha. Funny.”

“No, but seriously, it’s delicious, and I’m pretty sure I have some leftover pumpkin somewhere.”

“Feed me your leftovers,” Hux gave in, and straightened up, using Ren’s shoulders for leverage. He never thought that accidentally rubbing his soft cock over someone’s torso as he scrambled to his feet would feel good, but well... it did. He tippled slightly off-balance as he stepped off the couch, and Ren caught him by the bathrobe’s belt. They both looked at his hand; he gave the knot a tug. It came undone, and Hux shuddered as the robe opened up for Ren’s hungry gaze. Ren poked Hux’s belly with his nose, and peered up at him.

“I can make you a romantic dinner tomorrow?”

“What does that even _mean_ ,” Hux groaned. “I mean, if you think of it, what makes one type of food more romantic than others, rose-petals in the gravy, or what? I don’t expect you to make me a _dish_. I’m not dating Jamie Oliver, and I can take care of— _ahh_!”

Without a warning, Ren cupped his cock. There wasn’t even anything erotic in his touch: it was just like he was saying hi, but the fact that everything down there could fit into Ren’s big hand made Hux shut up pretty swiftly.

“We’ll make pumpkin soup, and we’ll eat it by candlelight while listening to sappy records,” Ren said, giving a light squeeze. “All decorations will be shaped like anatomically correct hearts, and I’ll recite poetry.”

“Of course you’d have vinyls,” Hux forced out. Ren slapped his inner thigh without force.

“Come on, that ginger won’t grate itself.”

“Gingers are generally self-sustaining,” Hux scoffed. He headed for the kitchen, making himself decent hastily. Ren trailed behind him, radiating smugness. He heard some rustle, and turning behind confirmed that Ren was shedding his suit. “Wait — is ‘grating the ginger’ a euphemism, and if so, what the hell does it mean?”

“I just don’t want to get my suit dirty.”

“So you’re going to cook in your underwear, is that it?”

“Would you prefer a naked chef?” Ren winked. Hux frowned, and hopped on the counter.

“Do I need to introduce you to the ingenious invention called ‘an apron?’”

“I’m not wearing an apron, that’s gay,” Ren said, opening the fridge. Hux crossed his arms over his chest.

“You _are_ gay!”

“Pansexual, don’t becloud the spectacular rainbow-colours of my flamboyant sexuality.”

Hux wanted to retort with a witty pun involving kitchen-utensils, but got distracted by that damn bunny print facing him.

“I’m surprised you, uh, put it on your fridge,” he said, pointing at it with his toes. Ren chuckled and handed him a carton of coconut milk.

“You’re super cute in it.”

“I’m thirty-four.”

“And super cute,” Ren sang, kissing his forehead. Hux frowned. Ren waltzed to the sink to wash the shallots and the pumpkin and let out a shocked laugh.

“Watcha doin’ in here?”

“Mrrph,” Millicent answered.

 

* * * 

 

Thanks to whatever ineffable forces shape destiny, Ren didn’t make good on his threat of a fancy dinner. They ended up sitting on the floor, backs to the couch, watching _Billion Dollar Wreck,_ plates balanced on their knees. The soup was exquisite: the chili powder and mint really did the trick, although Hux was sceptical at first. He wolfed his small serving down, realising that he’d been more hungry than he’d thought, while Ren was still only halfway through.

Subtly, Hux started eyeing Ren’s plate, pondering how to ask “Will you finish that” while looking irresistible. He figured he could just stand up and go to the kitchen for a second serving, but decided against it; it was too nice on the ground. The living area was illuminated by the soft blue glow of the screen, making it look like they were underwater, two people in their fishtanks; and beyond the window, he could see the light of a couple hundred other fishtanks, and he momentarily wondered how many of those fellow human beings were as lucky as him, to spend their Friday night with someone they found amazing. He looked up at Ren’s face, but Ren didn’t notice him. Supposedly, slurping on soup was not a particularly attractive activity, but he was captivated by it all the same. He pressed closer, running his fingers up Ren’s thigh.

“Can I milk your cock for dessert?”

Ren spat out his soup. Yeah, that definitely wasn’t cute.

“ _What_?” he coughed.

“What,” Hux echoed, coolly, and patted Ren’s back like a good, caring boyfriend. “I deserve dessert.”

Ren wiped his chin with a napkin he had at the ready and mopped up the small portion that had ended up on the floor. Hux couldn’t be sure in this lighting, but it seemed Ren was blushing.

“Wanna suck cock for dinner, huh?”

“Well,” Hux said, hand sliding between his thighs. “If you don’t mind.” A curt nod was enough to allow his hand to travel up and poke Ren’s crotch curiously; he was soft. That wouldn’t do. “Although if I start giving head now I might drop off, so what about I just lend you a hand while you finish your dinner, lick it up later?”

“I don’t know what’s it about, but I’m game,” Ren said, spreading his legs farther apart eagerly.

“Go on, then, watch telly and eat your soup,” Hux ordered, pressing his palm to the shaft. He could feel it twitch.

“You call it _telly_ ,” Ren mouthed. Hux arched an eyebrow at him, so he spooned some soup into his mouth and pretended to be absorbed in the commercial break. Hux unbuttoned the black briefs leisurely, and got Ren’s slowly swelling cock out. He started stroking it like it was any other part of Ren’s body, with teasing little touches, turning his attention back to the History Channel. By the time the program resumed, Ren was fully hard, and Hux was merely toying with his cock, pulling at it idly and letting it roll between his fingers.

“More,” Ren asked, hoarse.

“Shush, I’m really interested whether they’ll find that ship.”

Ren groaned, and his hips bucked. Hux tsked. “You’ll spill the soup.”

“Wouldn’t have thought you had it in you,” Ren said, “that you get off on torture.”

Hux met his eyes. Ren’s pupils were fat, and his cheeks were flushed. Hux pressed his cock flat against his stomach and watched him swallow a grunt. “Is this torture?” he asked as he started rubbing the head lightly. It took all of his willpower to hold back, to make it last and not just climb over Ren’s lap and take what was finally within his reach.

“I wish we’d been college roommates,” Ren sighed, thrusting his hips up to meet Hux’s touch. “We could’ve made so many memories.”

“Please. We would have despised each other up until the very last moment; you would’ve bent me over our moving boxes to fuck away years’ worth of sexual frustration, and that would’ve been it.”

“I would’ve dated the fuck out of you,” Ren objected. “I wish I’d met you earlier. Now I think every day spent without you as _wasted_.”

“Oh, someone gets sentimental from getting his dick touched,” Hux teased, feeling Ren shudder beneath his palm.

“I was still a virgin in college,” Ren blurted out. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Well, you certainly made up for it.” Hux pinched him gently, earning a throaty moan. “You would’ve wanted me to deflower you, wouldn’t you? I’ll have you know that I was riding dick like a pro.”

“Show me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have a degree to prove it.”

“Get on this cock and show me how you would’ve ridden it.”

Hux felt a rush of arousal surging through him. His patience was up. Wordlessly, he shrugged off the bathrobe, while Ren set his plate aside. He reached for his glasses, but Ren barked, “Glasses on.”

“Do you have lube?”

“In the bedroom.”

“That’s too far,” Hux announced, straddling his thighs. Ren grabbed his hips, greedy, and guided him further up. “What?”

“Sit on my face.”

“You—”

“Please,” he pouted. “It’s my first time.”

“Like _hell_ ,” Hux scoffed. Ren lay back, careful that neither the couch nor his plate would be in the way, and simply pulled Hux over his head, manhandling him to his liking. “See, this is what I’m talking about, the confidence—”

“Mind if I bring myself off?”

“Don’t play coy.” Hux grabbed his own cock, and slowly lowered himself over Ren’s face. The position was utterly ridiculous, and the background noise of overly excited fortune-seekers didn’t help. Hux was facing the kitchen, and, of fucking course, he could see the fridge. Ren gripped one of his thighs and started kneading it while giving a tentative lick to his rim. A moan escaped Hux’s throat, and he began circling his hips, careful not to put too much pressure on his knees. He was no longer twenty-something. Judging by the wet noises, Ren had started jerking himself while licking deeper. Hux soon got the hang of it and found a rhythm, imagining that it was his last year at Cambridge, his last chance to educate his roommate on the fine arts of carnal pleasures.

“Can you even breathe?” he asked.

“No,” Ren murmured and started sucking around the ring of muscle. Hux nearly doubled over. It was pretty rare that he found reality more exciting than fantasy when it came to sex, but the fact that they were together at last, on the floor of Ren’s living room, illuminated by the History Channel, just _going at it_ with abandon, was far more arousing than pretending to be his former self giving an inexperienced Ren something to remember. He fisted his cock, staring down his picture on the fridge. Was this how Ren saw him? He considered himself attractive, sure (fuck shit fuck _fuck_ ) but that was ( _ahh_ ) a less important aspect of ( _hah, hah_ ) his personality, seeing that he was—a professional, and—

“Ren, this is not how a bloody _student_ gives a rim job—”

“The correct term is eating ass,” Ren argued, starting to fuck him with his tongue. Seeing stars, Hux moaned, and squeezed his eyes shut, bearing down harder. He didn’t last long. His legs had hardly started aching, and he was already a panting mess, sweat sticking to his forehead.

“I’m going to come,” he breathed. “Fuck, I’m gonna— I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you so much!”

He might’ve been mistaken, but it felt like Ren nibbled at him. He cried out, and he was coming as advertised. Another break came on, and he was staring at the mess he made on the floor in the white lights. He made to stand up, but Ren grumbled and pulled him back.

“Are you planning to come with your face buried in my arse?” Hux panted. “You heathen.”

He reached back for Ren’s cock—thank god for aerobics—and he managed to close his fingers around the shaft. _You absolute madman_ , he thought with affection as Ren snapped his hips, fucking his fist while lapping at his oversensitive ass. Soon, a stifled moan announced that he was done, and then Hux felt him shiver. He climbed off him, carefully, and lay down next to him on the ground in a position which looked like the aftermath of extensive sixty-nineing. He turned to Ren’s crotch, exactly at eye level, and dipped his finger in the come covering Ren’s trembling abdomen.

“Do you think it’ll taste of pumpkin?”

“I really hope not,” Ren heaved. “That’d be alarming, and my health insurance is crap.”

“Were you with Hosnian Prime, or what?” Hux asked, sucking a finger into his mouth. It didn’t taste like pumpkin at all; a relief and a disappointment wrapped in one.

“Actually, yeah.”

“You’re taking the piss,” Hux said, getting to his elbows. “Did you let me _annihilate_ your insurance?”

“I’m healthy when I’m not ejaculating pumpkin spice.”

“But you got pneumonia—”

“That was, like, one time,” Ren waved it away. “Three times in total.”

Hux looked him over. There was no way in hell he’d let any harm come to this man. He felt anxiety rising in his chest, and he had to take a calming breath. It caught Ren’s attention.

“I know that look,” he said. “Hey, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. We just had sex. Please don’t do that thing where you overthink things.”

“I’m just wondering—”

“Here we go,” Ren mumbled, pulling himself up into a sitting position. His eyes were still hazy with his orgasm, pupils wide. He was so beautiful, and he was a proper idiot.

“Why did you support destroying your own insurance company?”

“Because, um, it was a good idea?” Ren arched his brows. “I have it figured out. You needn’t worry. Okay?”

Hux shook his head, getting to his feet. They were insecure and shaky, abused skin burning.

“Armitage,” Ren pleaded, a bit sharper. “Don’t have fucking double standards. Regardless of _who_ got temporarily disadvantaged as a consequence, the sacrifice was worth it, and you know it.”

“It’s not about Hosnian Prime,” Hux muttered, getting the bathrobe back on. He made a futile attempt at cleaning his glasses while he continued, “If something happened to you, I couldn’t do anything. And it’s not only the distance, it’s that I’m — a trifle unaccustomed, per se, to caring about somebody.”

“You care about a lot of people,” Ren argued, sitting cross-legged and bare-arsed on the floor. “You care about the whole of mankind, actually. You feel like you owe them a better future, not because they did anything for you, but because you have the ability to create something great, and sometimes it feels like a burden.”

Hux was touched, oddly so. He never vocalised it like this, but it was true - as if Ren could see right through him, and moreover, as if he liked what he’d seen there. Hux pushed his smudgy glasses up the bridge of his nose, and said, fazed, “That’s different. That’s like — I feel responsible. I feel responsible for, well, everybody, and even for my mentor or my cat or my father, my friends; what you and I have, it’s something else. It’s intimate.”

“You love them,” Ren said. “Millicent, Phasma, Sloane. Even your father.”

“But I’m _in_ love with you, dumbass,” he retorted, voice thin. “What the hell am I supposed to do about that?” He cleared his throat, swallowing around the lump he felt there. Ren inclined his head, watching him patiently.

“What about we take a nice bath,” he proposed.

Hux sighed. “Oh, that’ll help wash away my problems.”

“You don’t have to wash them away. You have to deal with them.” Ren got to his feet and stretched. Hux took in all glorious six-feet-two of him, the come dripping down his well-defined stomach, and for a second wondered what his issue was; then he remembered all too soon - he didn’t know how to do a relationship; he didn’t have any protocol to follow. In all probability, whining right after reunion sex was on the not-to-do list. When they were an ocean apart, exchanging messages, videos, and calls, he thought it’d be easier to communicate face-to-face, but now he was at loss. The ease of domesticity seemed to completely abandon him, and he found himself asking, “Why are you putting up with my shit?”

Ren grinned at him. “Because that’s what it’s all about, stupid.”

 

* * * 

 

The bath was really nice — a proper, warm bath; and for all what Ren said about not washing away problems, Hux felt his nervousness slowly draining from his system. It certainly helped that Ren put it on himself to scrub him off. The soap smelled of jasmine and ylang ylang, soothing his senses as Ren worked on his back.

“Would you be opposed to a massage later, sometime?”

“Just how many secret skills do you have?” Hux scoffed. Ren kissed the space between his shoulderblades.

“You’ll have to learn them one by one,” he said. “Turn.”

Hux obeyed, trying not to splash the water and not to kick Ren. The tub was very spacious, but it had its limits. Ren smiled at him fondly and kissed him. Hux parted his lips for him; this bit was easy. He always felt safe and taken-care-of like this; he let Ren take the lead, just allowing him to indulge him — it made both of them happy, although he wished he could do something _more_ to please him, to be the one with the comforting words and all the right touches. It felt good to take control in the living room, to have Ren at his mercy, but ultimately, they both preferred it the other way around, and most of the time, it was more than fine.

Not tonight.

Ren pulled back slowly, their lips still brushing.

“Do I taste like tequila, pumpkin, and come?” Hux asked.

“Yum.”

“I really need to brush my teeth.”

“Not so fast,” Ren said, kissing him again. Hux wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him in deeper.

“I can suck cock underwater, you know,” he whispered.

“You _can’t_ ,” Ren gasped.

Those were his last words. Hux raised an eyebrow in challenge and made a show of holding his nose. Ren barked out a disbelieving laugh and lay back, gripping the bathtub’s edge. Hux submerged his head, back arched. A pool would’ve been better: more room to move around, the ability to see, that sort of thing, but maybe like this was even more impressive. He sealed his lips around Ren’s cock tightly, not allowing any water to rush in, and let the head hit the back of his throat. Ren was only half-hard, but he was intent on changing that. He resurfaced for air and to check on Ren. Ren was stunned.

“You’re not real,” he whispered. Hux got him in hand and blinked away the foamy water from his eyes. It didn’t sting as much as he thought it would.

“Get a fistful of my hair. I’ll tap on your leg if I need your assistance to resurface.”

“I fucking love your hair like this,” Ren said as he obeyed him.

“Thanks,” Hux said, and he dived in again. The warm water was making him dizzy in the best way, and he loved the wet silence and the darkness, as if he was in a poor man’s sensory deprivation tank. It helped him focus on the taste and feel of Ren’s cock, how heavy and hot it was on his tongue, how it hardened for him; he counted down the seconds, coming up for air every two minutes. It was the most fun he ever had with breathplay. He started wondering how would it feel to have Ren choke him; he liked the idea quite a lot, and he liked how Ren came undone beneath him. He started getting sloppy — water splashed over the edges as he resurfaced, soaking the marble; he was panting and woozy. Ren cupped his chin, running his thumb over his swollen lips.

“Are you okay?”

“Perfectly.” Hux heaved and spat out some water. “Okay, no. Maybe we could finish some other way. I’m usually better than this.”

“Just how often do you go down on guys underwater?”

“A man’s gotta have his preferences,” Hux said, fumbling for the plug. He started draining the tub. “My preference is your body type. It’s generally possessed by waterpolo players and certain boat club captains.”

“We should try it some other time; this shit is amazing. I was thinking about getting a jacuzzi in the bedroom anyway.” Ren opened the tap, got some cold water in his palm, and helped Hux wash his face off.

“Think about me when you get it.”

“I totally will.”

Hux peered down at Ren’s erection. He prided himself with never leaving a job unfinished. “Frottage?”

“Don’t ask. I’m always down to frottage.”

 

* * *

 

After what went down in history as the most slippery frottage session ever, they shared a cigarette, and now Hux was lying in Ren’s bed, warm and worn-out. This was where he belonged, between these dark sheets, which looked like woven midnight, with Ren straddling his hips and massaging the tension away from his shoulders.

Hux melted into the mattress, purring his pleasure while his mind raced: _I can’t lose this, can’t lose you. I know you wouldn’t give up on me even if I was a rubbish partner — I’m afraid you wouldn’t — I want to earn my place, I want to—deserve this. First step, first step. Stop overthinking. Stop making this—_

“Where did you even learn to give a proper massage?” he asked as an attempt at casual conversation. Ren’s thumb circled his shoulder blades, rubbing the scented oil in. The bottle promised _tobacco sandalwood_ ; it wasn’t that, but whatever it was, it smelled amazing.

“My grandparents brought me to this spa when I was, like, seventeen,” Ren said. “Grandfather was an amputee, y’know, so he needed treatment regularly. I was allowed to come along once, and it was so, so good for my jiu jitsu-sore muscles that I wanted to learn it myself.”

Hux wiggled under him a bit; Ren got the message and kneaded harder.

“Why do you call him ‘Grandfather?’”

“In a surprising twist of the English language: he was my grandfather,” Ren deadpanned.

“No, smartass, I mean, you could call him Grandpa or Pops or Gramps; instead you’re, like, ah yes, My Maternal Forebear, what a guy.”

Ren chuckled, clever fingers running down the sides of his back, ticklish and wonderful. “I guess, uh, it’s Mum’s fault. I mean, my family history is pretty complicated—”

“So I’ve heard,” Hux acknowledged.

“But the gist of the story is, Mum ran away from home when she was sixteen— Didn’t really run, Granny helped her ‘escape’—”

“Ah! Amidala is Granny.”

“Yeah.” Ren cleared his throat. “So, um, Mum went to live with the Organas because, uh, she had had enough of Grandfather’s abuse. He was in a bad place. Not to excuse it, but he really regretted— And it wasn’t even— But anyway. Mum didn’t really allow me to see him, and it was always like: your jerk of a grandfather this, your shitty grandfather that; she refused to call him her father. I think that was cruel. So I call him Grandfather, because that’s how he’s been…referred to. When I was allowed to see him, well...best days of my life. He never, ever hurt me.”

“My father used to beat me,” Hux chimed in, almost cheery, really, just to keep the conversation going, but he felt Ren’s hands freeze in their tracks.

“What—” he said as if the word was punched out of his lungs.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago,” Hux hastened to add, and he tried to turn to look at him; the position didn’t really allow it. “I hardly remember it,” he told the soft darkness.

“How _could_ he? How could— How old were you? Is that okay to ask?”

Hux squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. It was something else as well: fear. “I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Can we pretend I never said what I just said?”

“You didn’t ruin anything. If you’re not ready to talk about it, that is perfectly understandable, but I’m sorry, I won’t be able to pretend I didn’t hear it. So, we should—”

“But it was _really_ a long time ago,” Hux opposed. “Sloane put and end to it, anyhow. She literally got into a fistfight with Papa. I watched. I learnt that day that there _were_ people stronger than him, so I was no longer afraid; I had no logical reason to be. Sloane kept watching out for me. She made me what I am today.” He stopped to lick at his lips. He felt Ren shift a bit. “Please, if you remember anything from this, make it this part: how I overcame beginnings that were not exactly flattering.”

“Armitage,” Ren said softly. He shuddered with it; he’d been thinking about asking Ren to call him by his surname, like everybody else did, because _Armitage_ was pretty much reserved for the past, but the way he said it was different. It sounded like a promise.

“I didn’t want you to know,” Hux said, partly muffled by the pillow he pulled closer. “I don’t want you to treat me any differently, just because you know. It just slipped out. I didn’t think it through.”

“I understand,” Ren said, caressing his back. Hux swallowed an unexpected sob. _Touch me, touch me, even when I mess up, even when I'm weak, touch me just the same_. He arched into Ren's hands, and Ren asked, “What do you need?”

“Just — resume, please. It’d be greatly appreciated.”

Ren brushed his fingers over his skin, and then grabbed his sides. There was gentleness in his touch, but no pity. Hux often felt like he was made of glass when he shared too much; Ren made him feel like flesh and blood, human.

“Tell me something sad about yourself,” Hux asked. “For fairness’ sake.”

“I almost missed out on getting to know you,” Ren said, earnest. “Can you imagine that? Can you imagine that I’d think you anything but clever, precious, and special, that I mistook you for some useless desk jockey, that I thought you heartless, when you burn with passion—”

“Hey, that’s cheating,” Hux grunted.

“You make me so proud,” Ren went on, undisturbed. “Do you have any idea what is it like, when I look at you and think, _w_ __hoa, that’s my boyfriend_ — _ to know everything you’ve achieved, to know your brilliance; for crying out loud, you’re Armitage Fucking Hux, and here you are, in my bed, and I get to touch you, to please you, I get to _be with you_. It’s a fucking privilege. And you can’t fuck it up.” He gave a squeeze to his shoulders. “You can’t, because you can’t stop being yourself. And I love you because you’re you.”

Hux blinked a few times, making sparkles dance in the dark. “How and _why_ do you always know exactly what I need to hear?”

“I do? That’s…reassuring to hear.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Hux tried to roll onto his back; Ren noticed his efforts and raised himself to his knees to allow him movement. Hux turned to face him, scowling. “You’re a perfect boyfriend,” he accused him.

“I really am not,” Ren objected. “I just say whatever’s on my mind, really. No filter. No modesty. Actually, I was worried you’d find it a turn-off.”

“You were worried,” Hux repeated. Worrying just didn’t fit the concept of Ren. Maybe he looked a tad _perturbed_ kneeling atop him, eyes too wide and mouth slack, but nothing, absolutely nothing could break that general aura of defiant self-assurance. Ren carried himself like an exiled prince, with an offended sort of confidence, which Hux found disturbingly attractive.

“I’m _always_ worried,” Ren confessed. “You just shared something very painful and personal, and I really wish I knew how to react, because I’m so honoured by your trust, and you deserve the absolute best, and I’m worried I’m not that. I’m worried you’ll find someone who’s less messy and impulsive and angry, someone more mature and sophisticated, someone who I’m going to fucking mur—”

“Does he have a bigger cock than you?” Hux interrupted sharply. Ren frowned, insulted.

“You may love my cock but you don’t love me _because_ of my cock. Don’t make light of it.”

“Whenever you find yourself jealous of that imaginary person,” Hux said, inclining his head, “I want you to ask yourself the question ‘Does he have a bigger cock than me?’ and come to the conclusion that that’d be absurd, and be thus relieved that said person does not exist, but you do. And yes, I love you. Even though I was under the impression that you were acing this relationship thing without even thinking about it, and I kind of hated you for it.”

Ren grinned. “I’m freaking out all the time.”

“Likewise,” Hux said, offering his hand. He expected Ren to shake it, but he brought it to his lips. “See, this is what I’m talking about,” he grumbled, but he had never felt more relieved. They were both nervous wrecks. He was looking forward being nervous wrecks together for a good while.

 

* * *

 

He and his favourite nervous wreck changed the sheets he had accidentally soaked with massage oil, and then he wrapped a towel around himself, and they both headed to the living room for the last emails of the day. They sat side-by-side on the couch, Hux throwing his legs over Ren’s lap, getting more and more comfortable by the minute, feeling smug and superior with the knowledge that Ren didn’t actually _know_ any better than him; he was just lucky and maybe a born romantic, more attuned to empathy, from a largely loving family, used to the freedom of expressing himself and getting everything he wanted, but those didn’t matter.

The evening city seemed to be buzzing with opportunities as Hux spared the occasional glance at it; he was restless, over-excited, ready to conquer. He wanted to take Ren’s hand and lead him out to the streets, to make him show him everything there was to see. He wanted to eat the world like a peach.

Judging by how owlish his blinks got, all Ren wanted to do was sleep. Fuck jetlag and timezones in general.

“Bed?” he offered. Ren sighed.

“Never were there more beautiful words spoken.”

“Go ahead. I’ll finish this report and check on Millicent; will join you promptly.”

“Is she okay?” Ren yawned as he locked his iPad.

“Yes, it’s perfectly normal for cats to shy around on the first day. I think she’ll familiarise herself with the place during the night.”

“Let’s take her for a walk tomorrow,” Ren murmured, kissing his cheek. Hux closed his eyes, enjoying the lingering touch of Ren’s lips.

“Cats aren’t really fond of walks, especially in foreign cities.”

“I saw she has a harness?”

“That’s for airport security.”

“You came well-prepared,” Ren said. He gave him another peck and got to his feet. Hux was beaming, more amused than pleased; it seemed that Ren would compliment him for the simplest things, from following basic safety regulations to merely existing, and he wasn’t sure yet how he felt about that. He scanned through the research proposal, having to re-read certain lines, his head still in the clouds. He was big enough to admit that he enjoyed being praised, but usually for things that were the result of hard work.

He typed out some quick notes, then powered off his Macbook, setting it down to the chic coffee table next to Ren’s tablet. He stopped for a second, taking it in — their stuff side-by -side. He didn’t know why the sight made him downright giddy, but he had a few good guesses.

He checked Millicent’s bowls and potty kit, and then set around to find her. She was curled around a blooming dracaena at the far end of the living room.

“Good girl,” Hux said. “Going out into the wild.” Millicent allowed him to pet her, but started wriggling away when he experimentally hooked his hands under her forelegs to raise her up. He let go and scratched her chin. “All right, all right, in your own time.” She headbutted his palm, then rubbed her face over his thumb with the softest chirrup.

He got a bit lost in stroking her warm fur and telling her how lovely she was and which species she belonged to (“lovely kitten, kittycat”) when he realised that he not only risked Ren falling asleep while waiting for him, but that he was doing the same thing Ren did, praising somebody for virtually nothing — but then again, it’d be unfair to expect too much from Millicent. Her _job_ was to look adorable, and she was doing remarkably well. Hux kissed her nose, wished her goodnight, then broke out into a moderate jog, racing to the antique wardrobe in the antechamber, into which he had put his clothes. It housed Ren’s winter coats, so it was very easy to spot the negligee he had planned to wear for the night among the heavy, dark clothes.

Maybe it was a bit too much.

A bit too…little, to be exact. A mauve, velvet babydoll dress with black lace details, so short it left some of his arse exposed; he had planned to roll on a pair of stockings with it and put on matching knickers, but who wore _stockings_ to bed? Of course, the set was intended for foreplay, not for sleeping, and Ren was very exhausted. He cursed, but put it on nevertheless, garter belt and all, then headed to the bedroom, feeling a bit ridiculous and out-of-place, but jumping into pyjamas would’ve felt like giving up. Ren probably had no energy left to even spell the word sex, but he might appreciate the sight anyway. He wanted to see that glint in his eyes; he wanted a smile and yes, some cheap praise as well.

He entered the bedroom without any flourish, marching to the bed as if he was ready to kick its ass. Ren was spread out on his belly in a tee and briefs, looking like a limp starfish washed ashore. It was probably the way he slept when he didn’t have company. He made a low sound in his throat and pried his eyes open; then his jaw dropped.

“Whoa. Duty calls, I see.”

“Don’t feel obliged; consider it a nice surprise for morning-you,” Hux said, grabbing the sheets, fully planning to just slide in, but Ren grabbed the other end.

“What the hell, no, let me look at you. Turn around, gorgeous.”

Hux straightened up while Ren fumbled for the night lamp. The blue shimmer of the moon and the city’s radiance were replaced with the buttery shine of a lightbulb, making the room look like an oil painting, aglow with gold. Hux spun, more like a skater than a model, the light catching in his hair and on the velvet. He finished with a small curtsy. Ren’s mouth was still open.

“I’m getting hard,” he announced.

“Lies,” Hux said, seizing the sheets again. Ren let him, staring at the V-cut of his dress unabashed, checking out his bared chest and how the shadows nestled there.

“Touch it.”

“Mm?”

“Come to bed and touch my cock,” Ren said. Hux knelt over the bouncy mattress, which was quite a maneuver, because American beds were unnecessarily high, and climbed to Ren on his hands and knees. Ren rolled onto his back with the laziness of a lion, his shirt sliding up a bit and exposing his taut briefs. Hux cupped Ren’s bulge. Oh well. He was very flattered. Ren pressed his dick against his hand, making him feel how hard and heavy he already was, and he couldn’t help but trace the length of his swollen shaft, right up to the tip. “You come into my bedroom looking like this,” Ren said, low, “and you don’t expect to get fucked?”

“I don’t expect it, but I’d welcome it,” Hux confessed. Ren laughed, grinding up sluggishly. There was the smile Hux wanted, and that spark.

“I bet you would.” Ren looked him over again, how he knelt beside him, buttocks resting on his heels. “I bet you’d like to get that petite ass full of cock. When was the last time I fucked you properly?”

“The last time I was here,” Hux answered instantly. Ren’s lips tugged up, greedy.

“What a damn shame. Better change that, huh? Better fuck you until…you’re happy.” He frowned at that.

“You’re very tired,” Hux noted. Ren nodded.

“That, I am.”

“How about you fuck me a little,” Hux asked, stroking his cock with sympathy, “and then tomorrow you fuck me until I don’t know, I’m full with come? Screaming your name? Crying with gratitude?”

“I love the crying with gratitude one,” Ren decided, closing his eyes. “Nice teamwork there. Dirty-talking.”

Hux bent down to kiss him, gripping his cock more tightly. Ren gasped as he rolled it under his palm, getting him fully hard.

“Can I make a solemn vow that from now on, I’ll never leave you unfucked?” Ren mumbled, peering up at him.

“Come on now, we did plenty of other things. I quite like the variety. Anal is not everything.”

 

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later Hux was of a very different opinion. Lying on his side, his left leg held in the air by Ren, who was fucking him with sharp, shallow little thrusts, he thought that anal was indeed everything, and he never wanted to _not_ do anal, because that’d be a total fucking waste of his life. He was screaming so much he was certain Ren’s neighbours downstairs had called the police by now, but no special unit could take him off Ren’s cock, not the SWAT, or the entire military.

He was so soaked with lube it made the most disgusting noises, but he couldn’t care less. It poured down around Ren’s cock, dripping to his trembling thighs. Hux was stretched wide, so wide Ren kept sliding out and fucking the space between his hole and his straining erection, and damn, was that _delicious._ He fisted his cock, rhythm all wrong, too fast and his hold too strong, but he felt that if he stopped to readjust or just slow down he might die.

He met every snap of Ren’s hips, wanting his dick deeper but never asking for it, enjoying too much how he was opened up by the thick head again and again, how Ren pulled out fully just to jab his dick back in. His wet cock slapped against Hux’s entrance, and Hux moaned at that so loudly Ren slapped him again, and then grabbed his asscheeks and made way to slide between his thighs, the tip of his cock hitting Hux’s heavy sac.

Hux let out a muffled chuckle, shocked. Ren dipped back in, fucking him so hard Hux had to get a hold of the headboard.

“Where did you even find the energy?”

“Regret gives you a boost,” Ren rasped. “Having a high-maintenance boyfriend also helps. Couldn’t just, ah, shag you anyway after all this time.” He sped up, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Hux’s neck. “Want you nice and wet and loose for me.”

“Please,” Hux panted, “please, Ren, pump it all into me, please—”

Ren slipped out, and started jerking himself off over Hux’s crack. Hux moaned as he felt hot come hitting his skin, spilling over his ass and some even getting over his own cock. He scooped it up, eager, coating himself. He felt Ren sliding in again, fucking his come back into him. His eyes rolled back and he whimpered, crazed; Ren pressed a calming kiss to his neck.

“You’re almost there, Armitage.”

“It’s so good it hurts,” he whined. Ren kissed up his jawline, putting his hand over Hux’s fist flying over his cock, just keeping it there, a reassurance as he rocked into him again. Hux cried out with his orgasm, spasming around Ren’s twitching cock. He didn’t only see stars — he saw exploding supernovas.

“Beautiful,” Ren whispered. “Look at you.”

Hux peered down, heart racing and chest heaving; the babydoll ran up to his stomach, and his stockings-covered legs were trembling. He looked thoroughly fucked-out, come painting Ren’s hand and his own.

“Please don’t pull out yet,” he panted. “Please, I think I’d come again. I don’t want to come again, I’d die, thanks.”

Ren chuckled, nuzzling closer. “Gotcha.”

“Bloody hell,” Hux said, with feeling, and closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Falling asleep with Ren’s cock up his arse was not a particularly bright idea, but they both dropped off. He came to himself around four AM, shed his clothes like they were burning his skin, and rushed to take a brief shower. Under the spray of water, he curiously dipped two of his fingers inside; they slid in no problem. He wondered whether the damage was permanent, and what would his doctor say — not like he haven’t turned up in his office with limited edition geisha balls stuck up his arse; in his defence, he had been drunk and lonely.

He wetted a towel and tiptoed back to the bedroom. Just looking at Ren made him grin; what a beautiful mountain of a man — he’d be happy to climb him any day, to hell with soreness. He settled back onto the bed and started cleaning him up gently. Ren let out a sound that was downright adorable and muttered, “How are you feeling?”

“Hush, go back to sleep. It’s early.”

“Ngh,” Ren said and blindly opened his arms. Hux finished up swiftly, dropped the towel to the ground to be dealt with later, and climbed into Ren’s embrace.

 

* * * 

 

When he woke again, it was still early. That was unfair. Ren was splayed out atop him; that was nice. He got a close-mouthed kiss as soon as he blinked his eyes open, and Ren whispered, “morning.”

“Morning,” he mumbled, pulling him closer with every limb he got to operate. Ren was smiling, a bit too cheery for ass o’clock, his expression soft.

“How do you feel about a nice morning jog?”

Hux considered it. “My conscience says yes, my old bones say sod off.”

“You’re not old,” Ren poked his tummy. “Come on, babe, it’ll be fun.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Just five more minutes, then,” Ren grinned. “I love waking up next to you, lemme enjoy this a bit longer.”

“ _I’m_ waking up next to _you_. You’re very awake.”

“Mm,” Ren murmured, burying his face in his neck. Hux started stroking his hair almost instinctively. That hair just begged to be played with. “I could sleep like this. You’re so soft. Expect for the bony parts, but I love those, too. You could stab a man with your elbow; that’s like, useful.”

“My preferred self-defense method is indeed elbowing my foes to death,” Hux admitted. He tugged a wavy lock behind Ren’s enormous ear. Everything on him was so big: big ears, big nose, big pecs, full lips, a supersized smile, and a proportionately massive dick. Hux wondered when he would stop getting all flustered just by thinking about those huge hands around his waist. _Not anytime soon_ , he realised as Ren pulled him closer.

Seven minutes later they were in the kitchen, Hux still groggy but decidedly content, even though he would’ve preferred not going around bare-arsed.

“I made us smoothie,” Ren announced as he contemplated covering his dignity with a kitchen towel.

“Oh yes, what’s in it?”

“Kiwi and kale,” Ren said, getting two moist glasses from the fridge. Hux would have preferred it without kale and with much, much more milk and peanut butter, but he decided not to complain and chugged it down like an adult.

“Did you bring running gear?” Ren asked, wiping his mouth with his forearm. Hux licked his lips and tried not to frown at the lingering taste. At least it was refreshing.

“I have my aerobic stuff with me, plus shoes, that’d suffice.”

“The pink shorty shorts!” Ren gasped.

“No, not the pink ‘shorty shorts,’ it’s too cold,” Hux said. Ren pouted, mock-offended.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, and put his used glass in the sink — tried to, anyway. “Look who graced us with her presence!”

Millicent was filling up the sink much more confidently than the day before and started purring when Ren rubbed her ears. Hux melted on the spot.

 

* * *

 

The jog was pleasant, even though Hux gave up on trying to keep up with Ren halfway through; even better was the quickie in the shower which followed, and the breakfast with french toast and bacon. The morning hours passed in a haze, with routine work, playing with Millicent, making out with Ren like newlyweds, an unexpected round of chess, and then reading excerpts from _The Moon is a Harsh Mistress_  out loud while lying in Ren’s lap, arguing about rational anarchism and the free market. They were rudely interrupted by Ren’s stomach grumbling.

“Lunch?” Hux asked, lowering the book.

“Let’s get cooking,” Ren proposed. Hux was a bit baffled.

“Not a fan of takeout?”

“Not on weekends.”

“Let’s get fancy then,” he gave in. “Seafood?”

“Fuck yeah.” Ren stretched while Hux set the book and his glasses aside. If they were to go outside for a grocery run, he’d rather not be seen wearing them. He headed to the bathroom to put his contact lenses in, while Ren called from the couch:

“What kind of seafood are we talking about?”

“I’m told my pesto mussels are rather excellent; it’s not too complicated, and it’s ready to eat in about a quarter of an hour.” That last bit was the main reason he liked it. He refused to make any kind of dish which would take him more than half an hour from start to finish; there were more important things to invest his time in — work, sex, contemplating the inevitable heat death of the universe, that sort of thing.

“What ingredients do you need?”

Hux pulled up the recipe from a cobwebbed corner of his mind. “Baby courgettes, cherry tomatoes, um, peas, white wine, basil, I think, and a whole lot of shit for the pesto.”

He heard Ren getting up and rummaging around, dropping something, kicking said something, and then he announced, “I have wine, basil and frozen peas, and my courgettes can go fuck themselves.”

“I’d prefer fresh peas an unfucked courgettes.”

“Farmer’s market?” Ren offered, slamming the fridge door closed. “We could grab the mussels from The Lobster Place.”

Hux pulled his lower eyelid downward, making the frown Ren’s suggestion prompted look even nastier. “Is that its name or is it just a place where lobsters go to hang out with mussels?”

“It’s _The_ Lobster Place. Pretty famous. They even sell t-shirts.”

“A fish market sells t-shirts?” Hux scoffed, popping the contact into place.

“Welcome to the USA. Whenever you’re ready.”

It took half an hour for Hux to get ready, so Ren fueled up on a granola bar. Hux readied an explanation of what a delicate process it was to make his hair presentable. He had ironed his suit, put on a Burberry trenchcoat and, after brief consideration, a pair of Prada heels. It made the Leaving the House project a bit complicated, since Ren was more than ready to take everything off him, and he was very reluctant to stop him thanks to the allure of Ren’s cute manbun and Armani coat. The only reason he put an end to it was because ironing the sodding suit was a bitch, and he really didn’t want to get it wrinkled.

He was led to the garage on Ren’s arm, enjoying how his heels clicked on the concrete. Being in a foreign city meant that he could be a bit more daring than usual, and it was clearly working because Ren straight-up walked into his own Cadillac, preoccupied with admiring Hux’s legs.

“Shit!”

“You poor thing,” Hux cooed like an asshole, then looked over the Cadillac and the Rolls-Royce. “Just how many cars you have?”

“The row,” Ren gesticulated at the long line of luxury cars. Hux’s eyes widened, and he grinned. “Just messing with you. No, it’s these two babies, plus the Chopper. Hop in.” He opened the door for him, and Hux climbed inside, careful not to hit his head.

“Have you ever met my car?”

Ren buckled up, saying, “Now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure; you seem to favour taxies.”

Hux crossed his legs, trying to look casual. He even glanced at his manicured nails. “Oh, I have a Tesla, I just hate traffic.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Ren snorted, amused. “A fucking Tesla, huh?” He turned the ignition key, and the Dixie Chicks started hollering before Hux could say anything.

“Are you secretly a country fan?” he asked, not sure whether he was ready for an answer.

“No, I swear on my dick it’s Renata’s stuff,” Ren explained, turning it off swiftly. “I didn’t pay for this engine to not hear it purring while I’m driving.” He winked at Hux. “You don’t get that with a Tesla.”

“No, but you do get lower pollution rates.”

“Touché,” Ren admitted.

 

* * * 

 

Hux was quite charmed by the streets they passed by; autumn was a flattering season on any city, but New York really seemed to light up with it, to burst buzzing colour. The sheer scale of the city was fascinating; the traffic, less so — he couldn’t help but be skittish about the right-hand driving: it looked like everybody was heading straight into a jolly car crash. Ren was navigating them through odd streets and large avenues with confidence, occasionally caressing Hux’s thigh or pointing out a favourite gallery or restaurant. Everything seemed so grand and new compared to London, and so singularly _American_ : young and optimistic and endlessly energetic. He got a bit dizzy with it.

“Are we there yet?” he asked, a tad brattish.

“About five more minutes.”

“Could we walk?”

Ren frowned, as if the concept of walking was foreign to him. Hux wondered whether the stereotype that Americans go everywhere by car, including the loo and their own funeral, would prove to be true after all. “I guess we could walk,” Ren said. “Let me locate a parking lot.”

“Pa _r_ kin’ l-at,” Hux repeated fondly.

It took them fifteen fucking minutes. Ren was clearly annoyed, but tried very hard not to show it, and Hux laced their fingers together in appreciation, running calming circles over his knuckles as they strolled through an alley. Ren smiled a weak little smile, and Hux touched his nose to his.

Hux soon came to understand Ren’s reluctance to park too far from their intended destination as they sidestepped trash and some dogshit, but if he was being honest with himself, he found the ugly little street quite exciting. His experience with New York so far was getting into posh cars and getting transported to posh places; this made the city feel more real. They turned a corner, and Hux spotted a Target. It was much smaller than he imagined; no doubt the bigger ones would be located in the outskirts of the city, but he tugged at Ren’s hand nevertheless, saying, “Let’s go in there.”

“What, to Target?”

“We don’t have Targets,” Hux said, crossing the street and pulling Ren after him so they’d break the law together — there was no crosswalk in sight. “I’m discovering your heritage.”

“I don’t think Target is any more part of my wealthy heritage than a Dollar Store is; you don’t have those either, do you?” Ren smirked. “Is it called Pound Store over there? Where you go to get pounded?”

“Don’t be immature,” Hux growled, face colouring a bit. Ren could be so deliciously improper.

“You’re literally dragging me into Target, I don’t think I’m the one—wow, check that out!” As they got closer to the shop windows, they were faced with a FRIGHT DONE RIGHT sign and a variety of sorrowful paper spiders and skeletons. “They still have the Halloween decorations! God, I miss fucking Halloween.”

“It was six days ago.”

“Miss it so much,” Ren lamented, touching the glass with longing.

“Let’s get you some candy.”

“Hope there’re no razorblades in them,” Ren sulked, but followed Hux to the door and held it open for him. Hux started second-guessing his decision as soon as he stepped inside and took a deep breath of what smelled like wet spaghetti and disinfectant. Everything was red and grey, and one look at the mismatched aisles betrayed a lack of neatness Hux came to associate with department stores — but then again, he frequented Harrods. He made his way in like a man braving a jungle.

“My costume was so cool this Halloween,” Ren recalled. “My tailor really liked the challenge.”

“You had a bespoke Halloween costume?” Hux asked, passing a terrifying graveyard of unwanted plushies. They all looked limp and lifeless. Some music was playing, but the quality was too bad to make out the words; it sounded a lot like _Baby It’s Cold Outside_.

“I wanted to look my best. It was a theme-party. Alice in Wonderland.”

“Of course,” Hux scoffed. “Can I guess whether you dressed up as the Mad Hatter?”

Ren put his hand over his heart and tipped an imaginary tophat. “You know me so well.”

“You never mentioned you went to a party,” Hux mused, going to tiptoes to try to locate where the sweets might be. They could be anywhere, from what he gathered. “Does explain the very drunk texts, though.”

“You said you didn’t care about Halloween. In short, I had fun. In more detail, I had loads of fun. Not as much fun as with your vid the day prior. No March Hare was as cute as my sweet bunny.” Ren squeezed his ass, just when he accidentally made eye-contact with a mother of two. Her gaze dropped to his heels; her face betrayed no other emotion than a blank incomprehension.

“Let’s take this conversation home, shall we?” Hux mouthed, only to be met with Ren’s wolfish grin.

“Did you bring the bunny costume?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Thought you’d...appreciate it.”

“So considerate,” Ren whispered, and he kissed his neck. A man with nothing but bags of Doritos in his cart passed them, and Hux’s face flushed. As impolite as public snogging was, he was thrilled by the idea of being seen with Ren after all the hiding and the bullshit.

“I’m not sure we should be displaying what we have,” he said with immense self-restraint; Ren pulled back immediately. Hux reached for his hand and laced their fingers again. “Just keep it PG.”

“Gotcha. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” They resumed walking; Hux lost all sense of direction, hyper-aware of holding onto Ren, how warm his calloused hand was, how amazing it felt to be able to touch it, just these few inches of skin. He pulled Ren into an aisle which mainly housed party stuff for children. “How about this,” he asked, putting his arms around Ren’s neck but not pulling him any closer, “we get shopping done, we cook, we dine—”

Ren was looking at his lips. Intently. “Yeah?”

“And then you take my ass to Wonderland,” Hux finished, and then risked a brief kiss.

 

* * *

 

 _The hour hath come_ , he thought as they were putting away the dishes. Maybe he was adopting Ren’s love for dramatics. They had chatted for a while over their empty plates, both pretending they had no other plans, but now lunch was officially over, and what would follow next was as exciting as it was alarming.

Ren smiled at him when they both reached for the dishwasher capsule. Hux dropped his hand, smile taut but eyes wide and wild.

“What do you expect from this experience?” Ren asked. Hux scowled.

“Of doing the dishes?”

“Of me doing you,” Ren winked, closing the door. The eco cycle started with a soft roar. “Our first time doing proper roleplay.”

“I don’t think I want it to be roleplay,” Hux confessed, leaning against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest, protective, still careful not to wrinkle his suit. “I want to have fun with you, not with some bloke from a fairytale. And I’d rather be myself than a rabbit, for that matter. I’m really not into petplay.”

“So it’s us, dressed up as certain characters, but still ourselves,” Ren summed up. Hux nodded nervously.

“Yes. I, huh, have a request or rather, a proposal, though, if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot.” Ren smiled at him again, making his stomach tremble.

He licked his lips, and addressed the space above Ren’s shoulder, “Could you be a bit rough this time? I really liked it, er, yesterday night, and I’ve noticed that you have a let’s say, darker side. So if you could allow a glimpse to that, that’d be...lovely.”

“How rough are we talking?” Ren reached out for him. Hux laced their fingers gingerly and pulled their intertwined hands to his chest.

“I want you to push my limits. Surprise me. The thing I _don’t_ want is to feel belittled or humiliated. I just…want to feel that I’m yours.” He pressed his forehead to Ren’s. “Your bunny boy.”

Ren kissed him, softly. “I think I know exactly what I want to do with you,” he murmured, and then added, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Hux replied automatically.

Ren flicked his collar. “Go clean up for me. I want to dress you up myself.”

 

* * *

 

Hux was glowing. He felt _pure_. He adored his arse a bit in the mirror, wriggling it around, his nervousness reduced to distant, absent-minded thoughts about how tomorrow he’d have to get this arse on a plane.

He reached down and tugged at his cock. It’d be only polite to go out and meet Ren at least half-hard; it didn’t take long to get there, eager as he was, almost flustered. With anticipation making his heart flutter, he opened the bathroom door and sauntered to the living room, where Ren was waiting for him, dressed down to shirt and suspenders. That was something to behold, Hux thought; maybe they should incorporate it into a future session. He walked up to the velvet couch and stopped short with his legs slightly apart as he stood. Ren looked him over, and with a tilt of his head signalled him to get to his knees. Hux wondered whether it was already part of the game and obeyed him. Ren cupped his chin.

“How are you feeling?”

“Ready,” Hux told him. Ren looked pleased and got the white bras; they were a simple design, cupping Hux’s flat chest perfectly. Ren did up the clasps without having to look at them. Hux huffed, impressed.

“Up,” Ren requested. The knickers followed: frilly, with a big pompom. Ren stroked Hux’s cock through them, just the outline of his shaft.

“How many times do you want to come?”

“Twice?” Hux said, voice a bit high-pitched. Ren squeezed.

“Not very ambitious, but reasonable.” He pulled his hand back. “One foot on my knee.”

“I think I can take three orgasms,” Hux mused. He watched Ren helping him into the white heels, wondering why it was such a turn-on. He got a hold on Ren’s broad shoulders so he wouldn’t tip off-balance. Those broad shoulders probably had something to do with why the simple act of getting dressed up got him all hot and bothered.

“Down,” Ren asked, and he sank to his knees again, which required a bit more concentration with the shoes on. He spotted Millicent from the corner of his eye, walking over the counter. They’d have to move this thing into the bedroom. Millicent was a lady, and she needn’t see such filth.

Ren crowned him with the bunny ears. So this was happening. He was dressing up as the March Hare for actual anal sex. Ren grazed his thumbs over his cheekbones, as if he tried to brush off the blush Hux couldn’t help.

“What a beautiful bunny you make, Armitage.”

“God,” Hux whispered.

“All mine to play with. I got you something.” He grabbed a sleek ivory-coloured box and handed it over. Hux delicately lifted the lid, feeling Ren’s gaze on him, and let out a soft gasp. It was a silver necklace with a tiny watch, joyfully ticking; he clicked it open. It was set to New York time.

“May I put it on you?” Ren asked.

“Please.” Hux bowed his head. He felt so fucking flattered. He didn’t wear jewellry, but that’s why he liked it so much — for the pointless indulgence; and he could already see himself taking it out in his London flat, looking at the little hands, wondering what Ren was doing far, far away.

The chain was so delicate he could hardly feel it. He touched his fingers to the watch, closing the lid again.

“I love it,” he said.

“Silver suits you. Brings out your eyes.” Ren looked at him, his eyes so deep they seemed to pull Hux in. _Falling into Wonderland_. “I could just look at you the whole day.”

“But you won’t, because you’ll fuck my brains out instead.”

Ren chuckled, offering his hands to help Hux to his feet. “That’s the plan. Go to the bedroom and kneel on the carpet I’ve prepared for us; if you feel uncomfortable or scared at any point, promise me you’ll let me know.”

“Oh, you won’t hear the end of it,” Hux said, grinning, and turned with a twirl. “ _I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date_ ,” he sang as he walked away, and he heard Ren grunt.

He entered the bedroom and found it slightly altered, the furniture pushed back and the floor covered with what looked like actual fucking grass carpet. He covered his mouth, nudging it with his feet, and then crouched down to examine it. It was artificial, thank god — it had no smell; but it was soft and nice and bloody vulgar. He knelt over it, as instructed, and spotted a picnic basket nearby with a tea set. When did Ren have the _time_ — all right, he took a while in the bathroom, but _come on_. He peeked up; as suspected: fairy lights. With the furniture all around, it looked like he was on a low-budget film set, ready for his big moment.

Should he channel his inner bunny? No, he really didn’t fancy roleplay, and Ren would respect his wish. He’d take good care of him. Hux clawed at his thighs absent-mindedly, enjoying the sensation. He must’ve zoned out, because he jumped when he heard Ren knock at the door.

“Come on in,” he called, and he pulled himself up into a respectable posture.

Ren looked too good to be true, huge bowtie notwithstanding, his frock coat and vest really complementing his frame, and _fuck,_ that tophat and how he raised it in greeting.

“You’re not allowed to wear anything else, ever,” Hux announced.

“Fine by me, if you do the same.”

“I’ll bloody do it,” Hux threatened. “I’ll go to work in this.”

“Would win you some deals,” Ren said, sitting down with his legs crossed, facing Hux. “Should I do a British accent to go with the ensemble?”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t be amused?” Ren asked, as RP as any bastard on the BBC, if a bit affected and his intonation off. Hux clutched his necklace, in lieu of pearls.

“Never do that again. You’re confusing my cock.”

Ren stared down to his crotch, unabashed. “Should we make your cock happy instead of confused?”

“If you’d be so kind,” Hux gritted. Ren rolled his eyes with a sly smile and pulled one of the picnic baskets close. Hux’s attention was drawn to Ren’s replica shoes, wondering what the good old Victorians would think about them; not like they weren’t a bunch of kinky buggers. Ren got a box and opened it carefully. Hux’s eyes widened in shock.

He supposed it was, essentially, a carrot dildo. Expect it was shaped like a very big, very orange dick, with green stripes of fabric attached to the base. Ren hit his open palm with them.

“These can be used as a whip...”

“Absolutely not happening.”

“...and are also for safety,” Ren finished smugly. He turned the dildo around and offered it to Hux. “Brand new.”

“You bought this for me?”

“For us. Wouldn’t be a very tasteful gift on its own.”

Hux scoffed, finally touching it. It was heavy, solid, slightly textured. Frankly, it looked horribly obscene, but it promised to feel good. Very good, indeed. “Your dick would have sufficed, but—thank you, anyway.”

“I don’t want to come until you’ve had your first orgasm,” Ren said. “Come now. Into my lap.”

Hux swallowed and crawled to him, more aroused than he was willing to admit. Having to hold the dildo made him slightly clumsy, but he managed to nestle between Ren’s legs, pressing his back flat against his chest. He could feel a slight pressure, and pushing back against it confirmed that Ren was just as hard as him. He allowed himself a grin.

Ren wrapped an arm around his chest and started caressing his stomach with his other hand. His touch was calming, ticklish; just letting Hux adjust to the situation.

“How do you feel?” Ren asked.

“It’s weird, but I’m into it so far.” He guided Ren’s hand over his bra. He stroked him through it, palm warm, and then slowly slid both of his hands under it. Hux’s breath hitched, a soft hiccup. Ren squeezed and pulled back, flattening his hands over the bra again. He kneaded his chest and tilted his head so he could look at how Hux's cock was straining his knickers. Hux followed his gaze, startled by the dildo for a second—he had almost forgotten about it.

Ren pinched his nipples and whispered into his neck, “Could you finger yourself?”

“Damn,” Hux said, which translated to a very enthusiastic yes. He retrieved the lube from the picnic basket and attempted to put the dildo aside for a while, but Ren tsked.

“Keep holding it, please. Get friendly. It's all going up your tiny ass.”

Hux wasn’t sure he could take it; Ren was bigger, but he was flesh and blood, while this monstrosity was some kind of rock solid, unyielding PVC. Hux gripped it to show it who was boss, and pushed in the tip of a finger into himself. His hips buckled, and Ren said, “Easy.”

He twisted his nipples, a bolt of pleasure surging through Hux. He let out a shaky breath, added more lube, and resumed with less fury. The knickers had an opening just where he needed it, but they still got sticky very quickly. Judging by how Ren’s hard cock dug into his lower back, they both liked the idea.

Ren leant closer and pulled one of the bra’s straps down with his teeth, refusing to leave Hux’s chest untouched even for a second. He circled his exposed nipple while rubbing the other, altering his touches and driving Hux wild. He was two fingers in, scissoring them expertly, and he realised he had begun to jerk the dildo without noticing, mind foggy with lust. Ren followed his gaze as he watched his hand moving over it, and asked, “Does my bunny want to nibble on his carrot?”

“Wha’?” Hux panted. Ren pulled him impossibly closer, rubbing up against him as he squeezed his chest.

“Suck on it.”

“Jesus, Ren—”

“Do you want to?”

Hux whimpered in answer, and—fuck it all—brought that giant fucking dildo to his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut as he swallowed the tip. It tasted like plastic, there was no way around that, but shit, did it stretch his mouth. He added a third finger. He would need fucking four of them. He moaned around the dildo and slid it further in. Ren grasped the end for him.

“Slowly. Bob your head. Get sloppy.”

Hux lapped at it, and Ren whispered, “That’s it.” With both of his hands free, he could really work himself open while Ren held the dildo like a prize, teasing his nipple with his left. Hux suckled on the toy; there was something peaceful in it, but with all the other sensations, he was overwhelmed. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? He choked on the mock-carrot when it hit the back of his throat and pulled back, saliva dripping down his chin. He peered back at Ren from under his lashes, the tip of the dildo resting against his cheek.

“Love seeing me like this?”

“Should’ve set up a camera,” Ren said with astonishment. Hux chuckled, tired. He was already sex-drunk, and they hardly started.

“I want you inside,” Hux said, lazy on the syllables. He went down on the dildo again, just to show how good he could be.

“If you can take the carrot, you can get my dick,” Ren said, grinding against him. “If you can’t, you’ll have to wait.”

Hux pulled off, but his fingers kept working. “No! Why is there a punishment part?”

“To make it more exciting.”

“Mm.” Hux frowned. “What do I have to do to get your dick in me?”

“Pull your hands back.”

Hux obeyed. Ren reached underneath him and dipped two of his fingers in. Hux gasped, clutching around them on instinct.

“Nice work. Wipe your hands. I'll tell you the rules of the game; if you like it, we’ll start playing right away. If you don't, we can negotiate, of course. It's all for fun. I wouldn’t want to make you feel belittled or ashamed in any way.”

“I’m having fun so far,” Hux assured him, getting the wet wipes from the basket. Kylo circled his nipple with his thumb.

“I want to fuck you with the carrot,” he said, and Hux couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sorry! That’s—not what I usually expect to hear in—”

“It’s okay, I also think it’s funny.” Ren grinned and wiggled the dildo. “Look at this. Don’t think we could sell it at the farmer’s market.”

“Ew!” Hux exclaimed.

“‘By Jove, Mr. McGregor, I’ve never seen the like of this before!’” Ren said in the voice of an appalled grandma. Hux covered his face, shoulders shaking with laughter. Ren pressed a kiss to his nape and lowered the dildo so it was no longer threatening to poke someone’s eyes out. They looked at it fondly.

“What’s the game?” Hux asked.

“I fuck you with this,” Ren said, circling the tip playfully, “and you have three minutes to come. You have to count it down. If you make it, I start fucking you while you’re still shaking with your orgasm and get a second one out of you.”

“And if I don’t make it?”

“I was thinking that I’d finish you off manually and we’d have fun vanilla sex later. Does that sound too harsh?”

“Absolutely not,” Hux shook his head, his bunny ears flopping. “As you said, it adds to the challenge. Let’s do it.” He spread his legs, sinking lower in Ren’s lap. He was very close a minute ago; surely, it wouldn’t take much to peak, although his cock had goten a bit flabby during the interval. That was the exciting part.

Ren lubed up the dildo and put his arm around Hux’s stomach. A light squeeze was all the warning he got before Ren pushed it right in. Hux cried out; the stretch was sudden and incredible, on the best side of painful.

“More!”

“Keep track on the time,” Ren whispered, and Hux scowled. That’s right, the time—five Piccadilly, six Piccadilly, seven Piccadilly; holy shit this thing was rigid. He whimpered. He was a respectable member of society, he could whimper as much as he fucking pleased during sex, and _fuck damn_ the bastard went straight for his prostate. _Too much too much_ —about twenty Piccadilly—

He fumbled for the watch. He ended up just curling his fingers around it, too distracted to get it open. At least Ren was not cheating. He did mean business. Hux squirmed—his arse was sticky with lube and his cock hurt, twitching helplessly in the confines of his knickers. He threw his head back, resting it against Ren’s shoulder—how many Piccadillies? Damn it, damn it—Breathing mattered, didn’t it? Breathe, breathe, breathe. Come.

He reached down, but realised that touching his cock was probably cheating, so he just put his hand over Ren’s. Ren made a reassuring sound while Hux was losing his fucking mind. He twisted around, trying to get more friction—he really really needed Ren’s cock, and not in about an hour but right fucking now. He needed him inside, he needed him to fill him up, to fuck him deep and hard, like the first time, like the last time, like on so many occasions he pictured this—Piccadilly? He just imagined that beautiful cock filling him full of come, until it was seeping out of him, and Ren would keep fucking him and he—

He came. 

A gasp, a tremble, and unbearable pleasure. He clutched around the dildo, his pulsing cock ruining his knickers for good, so good, so good—

He barely registered Ren putting the dildo aside, and when or how did he unfasten his trousers? His head was still swimming when Ren slid into him.

“Yes!” Hux yelled. “Yes, give it to me!”

“You sound very authoritative when you’re yelling,” Ren told him, voice raspy and his dick fucking heavenly.

“I know!” Hux shouted. He slammed down hard, meeting Ren’s thrusts. He was oversensitive, aching with ecstasy, and he needed fucking more of it. Ren made a weak little sound, almost pleading; Hux quickened the pace, riding his dick with a frenzy as Ren pulled him closer, burying his face in his neck.

“Armitage,” he panted. “Fuck—I’m yours, take it, everything—”

“Damn,” Hux cursed. He hung his head, trying to catch his breath, and said, “I’m yours as well. Forever and a day. I want that.”

Ren came with a cry; of course he’d come from a fairly level-headed romantic declaration. He wasn’t even done yet when he grabbed Hux’s come-slick cock.

“Can I—?”

“Please and thank you.”

That sentimental idiot really knew how to give a handjob. Armitage leant against him, just enjoying the show, growing euphoric. He wondered whether he meant what he just blurted out on accident; but of course he’d want it to last, of course he would fucking want that; and Ren did as well, so what could possibly stop them?

 

* * *

 

Ren pulled some strings and made a reservation for dinner at Le Bernardin, a restaurant with a month-long waiting list that was supposedly not just ritzy but actually good. Some thorough interrogation revealed that no other First Order US executive would be enjoying their night there, so it was safe to dress up nice and waltz in on each other’s arms.

Hux quite liked the design: it was modern and airy with warm colours and bold paintings of sweeping landscapes, opening up the space. He liked the glint of glass and the fresh flowers, and above all, how braggish Ren got about the place, as if he was the owner. He lounged in a comfortable leather chair, boasting about Michelin stars and the award-winning wine selection, and Hux followed his hands with his gaze, transfixed; they seemed to imitate the waves of the sea frozen in acryl. For all the refined beauty of Le Bernardin, he just couldn’t take his eyes off Ren.

He was forking his artichoke panaché into his mouth without registering the taste, watching Ren chewing on the black truffle vinaigrette he casually stole from Hux’s plate. His mind was empty, save from the buzzing pleasure of being in Ren’s company, and he was astonishingly sore, because after their little Wonderland session they just couldn’t stop fucking. Hux lost count of the positions, places and surfaces which had been involved. He was proud of them for managing to leave the house, hunger finally driving them out of their little sex-den, after Ren deemed that leftover pumpkin soup was simply inadequate for his beau, who deserved a special treat.

Ren toasted his “outstanding accomplishments,” and Hux was beaming, praise making him more intoxicated than the Sauvignon Blanc. They were playing footsie under the table; Hux got dangerously close to contemplating just how much of their modesty the tablecloth could protect, whether he could get a taste of his favourite dessert.

His phone buzzed; must be an important call, his setting has seen to that. He was still laughing at one of Ren’s jokes, some carrot cake-related pun, when he glanced at the screen. It was Sloane.

“I have to take this,” he said, apologetic. He should’ve actually gotten up and left—that was the polite thing to do—but he was both unwilling and unable to let Ren out of his sight even for a second, which started bordering on the ridiculous, but he allowed himself this small, dangerous indulgence. He flashed him a reassuring smile as he accepted the call.

“Good evening! Gosh, it’s over midnight over there, is everything—”

“I have some bad news,” Sloane interrupted.

“Is this about the Order?” he asked. Fuck, this was unfair. He hadn’t sat in the Cursed Chair. What could be it? His mind ran through a list of worst case scenarios and his emergency plans. Ren set his glass aside, looking worried.

“No. It’s a personal matter. It’s about Brendol.”

Hux frowned. “Oh?” _What did he do_ , he thought. What new scandal, what kind of fuckup...did he smuggle in alcohol again, did he try to flirt with a nurse, did he attempt to run away—

“I wanted to call you before the clinic. There’s no good way to say this. He died.”

There was a beat. Polite chatter, the clink of silverware. Ren’s gaze on him, warm and curious.

“No,” Hux said. “No, he did not die.”

“I know it must be—”

“He did not die,” said Hux, raising his voice. No one bothered to turn to him, but Ren looked shocked and _sorry_. “I’m on a date,” Hux hissed, spitting the words. “I’m in New York on a fucking date— He was about to get a transplant, I paid for that fucking— He did not fucking die on me, he did not—”

“Armitage,” Sloane snapped. Hux pressed his hand to his forehead and started sobbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warnings & disclaimers:** as a surprise to no one, their relationship is not ideal / a bit of undernegotiated exhibiotinism / non-sexual child abuse discussed relating Vader and Brendol; Kylo says he’s not excusing Vader, then proceeds to excuse Vader / when Kylo says he’s pansexual it’s a headcanon for this AU, not a claim regarding the canon / fantasy & some roleplay centred around the idea of being college students / the author shits a lot on country music for someone who genuinely enjoys country music / Kylo and Hux dress up as the Mad Hatter and the March Hare for sex; no petplay and no roleplay is involved / rough(ish) sex / controlling behaviour for fun / aftercare is not shown after intense sex, but be assured it happened
> 
> Remember when I said the series would have short updates? I played myself.
> 
> Many thanks to [Gefionne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne) for betaing and to bona-mana for the headcanons, suggestions and of course, the inspiring and beautiful art
> 
>  **Fanarts, while we're at it**  
>  * [Jeusus](http://jeusus.tumblr.com/post/163274600763/modern-cut-beat-check-silk-tie-burberry-125) got inspired by _When It Rains_ and gave us literal suit porn (NSFW)  
>  * I'll be damned if it's not a [moodboard](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/164324153481/the-suit-porn-au-updated-with-smut-and-feels-but)  
> You can find me at [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com)


	8. Here and Where You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 of the Suit Porn AU, in which Hux deals with Brendol's death and Kylo deals with Hux dealing with Brendol's death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on _A Suitable Suitor:_ Hux finally got a chance to visit Ren in New York, and they fucked each other’s brains out. In a memorable instance, costumes were involved. Everything was perfect until Hux got some shocking news on their date night: his father had died.
> 
> Please refer to the end for **content warnings!**

**7 November**

 

The heavy curtains of Ren’s bedroom were drawn. Everything was dim, muted: staring into the still darkness Hux could hear his own faltering breaths and the water running in the bathroom.

He was curled up with Millicent, wearing a soft, nondescript tee Ren had found for him. He had only packed elaborate, frilly babydolls and chemises to wear at night, and he was definitely not in the mood for any of those.

His father was dead.

He tried to muster up an emotion at this, but he just felt exhausted,; a headache from crying too much thrummed on his temples. Those had been the tears of stress, of rage. Now he was here, gutted, empty. He couldn’t grieve, yet he couldn’t do anything else without feeling he was procrastinating on experiencing what he was supposed to experience.

He didn’t even remotely like his father, but he loved him. If that made any sense.

He heard the water being turned off. Ren would soon be back, sweet Ren with his smothering concern. Hux was already fed up with how he’d started to walk on eggshells around him, how he had put his coat on him as he escorted him out of the restaurant, his hushed tones in the taxi, how he had been repeating “ _I’m so sorry_ ” as if he had anything to do with this clusterfuck. To be fair, Hux would hate him for behaving differently — his worry, annoying as it was, was genuine; Hux hated people who put on a façade when they didn’t know how to react to an unexpected situation.

Ren opened the door with such slow consideration that Hux wanted to throw a pillow at him — if he could move, that is. His fingers were tangled in Millicent’s fur, not even petting her, just resting his palm over her ribcage, counting her breaths, in, out, in, and feeling her rapid heartbeat, how everything in her small body fought to keep her alive.

“Hey,” Ren whispered. “I’ve got you some water.”

“Thanks,” Hux said weakly, hating himself for how his voice thinned, wishing he had some smart-ass reply at the ready. Everything about this situation was so alien: they should flirt and bicker, yet Ren just silently put a pitcher and a fancy glass on the night stand. The fake grass rustled as he stepped on it. They didn’t pack away the evidence of their trip to Wonderland; the sheets were changed, but the whole penthouse still smelled of sex. Ren hesitated before climbing to bed. He settled facing Hux, at arm’s length. Hux wanted to pull him closer, he wanted—

“Don’t do that,” he muttered.

“Do what?” Ren asked with overbearing worry. Hux carefully kicked him.

“This. C’mon. Fulfill your duties as big spoon. My father’s ghost won’t come back to haunt us if your dick happens to press against my arse.”

Ren sat up, but didn’t get any closer. He looked Hux over, hesitant. “Do you want to have sex?”

Hux shook his head before he could think about a proper answer. He licked his lips and croaked, “Guess I’m not the ‘oh it’s a funeral, let’s fuck’ type. Still, cuddling is not sacrilege. Please just—I want to sleep like we always sleep, okay? I want everything to be the same—”

“But it isn’t,” Ren interrupted, gently. “You must give yourself some time to adjust. Everything will be different for a while. You must adapt to the changes the void left behind by your father—”

“All he’s left behind is a body I need to dispose of,” Hux snapped, and on a softer tone, added, “Didn’t know you doubled as a life-coach.”

“I’m just trying to help. I have experience with grief.”

“Every experience is unique,” Hux said. “You can’t help me. I have to help myself.”

Ren sighed, but didn’t argue. Finally, he climbed over Hux, and laid down beside him, pulling him close by his waist. Hux buried his face into Millicent’s belly, and pressed back against his boyfriend. This was nice. This could be nice. Millicent’s tail was wagging impatiently, suggesting she’d soon get up and leave, and Ren’s hands felt like dead weight; normally, they’d travel to explore his body, rub his stomach, caress his thighs, cup his cock possessively; Ren would kiss his neck and whisper sleepy nonsense into his hair. Hux squeezed his eyes shut, praying that when he woke up, everything would be shifted back to normal.

“If you wanna talk, we can talk,” Ren said, lips brushing against his nape. It felt so good Hux shivered. He wasn’t ready to demand more.

“I don’t,” he said. “Thank you.”

His sleep was easy and undisturbed and he woke up invigorated. A beautiful day, its potentials and promises rolling out of his reach like a marble ball when he remembered his father’s death. He felt like a kid forced to go to Sunday school. He gazed at the shifting light on the ceiling, lying very still and doing absolutely nothing besides breathing, indulging in the softness of the covers and the heat of Ren’s body who had rolled on him during the night. Hux didn’t mind; soon, the unpleasant part of the day would begin, so he allowed himself to have this.

Long minutes passed. He was caressing Ren’s hair absent-mindedly, dying for a cigarette — he shouldn’t smoke, not until the funeral; Brendol’s reprimand had turned into a last wish. The last time they talked Brendol called him a coward for smoking, said he was killing himself, that he was an ungrateful little shit—it was beginning to sound like an endearment: it was something Brendol always said.

“I can hear you thinking,” Ren murmured.

“No, you can’t,” Hux said automatically as Ren blinked up at him.

“The cogs turning.” He poked Hux’s temple with his index finger; Hux frowned, but he liked how careless the touch was, like Ren no longer thought he was made of glass; the illusion was ruined when Ren asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m angry.”

“That’s good. Anger is good.”

“I hate this.” He made to sit up, and Ren let him, dropping down to his lap. Hux scoffed, and smacked his shoulder, but Ren refused to move. He made himself comfortable, and peered up at Hux, who crossed his arms as he leant against the headboard.

“We’re going to talk about emotions,” Ren announced.

“Tally-ho,” Hux muttered, and looked at the window as if searching for an alternate escape route. It was just a smudge of light and vague shapes without his glasses.

“What was your favourite thing about your dad?”

“Really?”

Ren nuzzled his belly. “Really.”

“Well,” Hux said, “I guess I always appreciated how he made sure I had a future. He carved out a path. I made it into a highway.”

“That’s nice.”

“Not like he ever noticed my efforts, let alone appreciated them,” Hux went on, “but whatever. I did it for myself. Everything. You know, I’ve been dreaming of this day.”

Ren had an odd look of smugness when he asked, “You have?”

“I’ve been fantasizing about a phone call informing me that dear Papa had some gruesome accident, and was beyond help; every time the phone rang or I was wanted in the principal’s office, I hoped I was going to be told the best bad news of my life. Even when I was, I don’t know, twenty-five, twenty-nine, I kept having this wishing-well reflex.”

“What changed?”

Hux shrugged. “He got sick. I had known I put him in that hospital to die. And suddenly, I had control over him. It was…” He licked his lips. “He gave me my life and now I was giving him his, paying his hospital bills. Like we were even. And I don’t know, I think I thought I’d be better at this, that I could keep him around for longer—maybe forever—long enough for… I don’t even know whether I wanted him to forgive me, or I wanted myself to forgive _him_ , but there was this sense of… absolution, almost, and now it’s gone. And he’s gone. And I can’t help but think that he did it on purpose, that somehow he knew I’d be here, that I’d be having the time of my life and he just wanted to hurt me one last time. It’s all so fucked-up.”

“From what I know of him, he was a fucked-up person,” Ren said.

“Ha.” Hux reached for the pitcher of water. “What is your father like?”

“Disappointing. Wouldn’t you rather have tea?”

“The answer is always the same for that question: an emphatic yes.”

Ren leapt to his feet and offered his hand for Hux to help. Hux put on his glasses, and then Ren led him to the sun-soaked kitchen in all his shirtless glory. Hux watched in amazement as he produced a box of loose leaf tea, just for him; he felt like they’d managed to escape reality and found themselves in a world without any pressing matters, where they could enjoy this morning together carelessly. He would’ve almost fallen for the trick, if it wasn’t for one thing: the silence.

He leant on the counter and adjusted his glasses. “So only one of us is sharing his daddy issues, I see.”

“Huh?” Ren asked, distracted by the kettle. It looked brand new. Hux was pretty certain Ren purchased it with the tea, and the thought made him feel warm and weird.

“Aren’t you going to tell me about your father?”

“There’s not much to say. He’s kinda shitty.” He looked at Hux, flustered. “Not as bad as yours, of course.”

“It’s not a competition,” Hux said with an easy smile. Millicent entered the kitchen, announcing her presence with an obnoxious mewl. Hux completely forgot his agenda as he led her to the fridge to get her some well-deserved breakfast.

“I guess I’ll feel like shit when he dies,” Ren broke his silence unexpectedly. He poured out the steaming water before adding the leaves, which made Hux wince, but he didn’t comment on it.

“It’s a shitty experience,” Hux said as he escorted Millicent to her bowl, careful not to trip over as she circled his ankles. “Gutting. Didn’t expect it to be like this.” He spooned out the mushy meat from the can. Feeding his cat like he did every damn day somehow felt absurd.

“He means nothing to me,” Ren mused, handing Hux his cup. Hux took it, and their fingers brushed; such a simple touch still had the power to make Hux dizzy. Ren leant against the oven and rubbed Millicent’s back with his toes. Hux smiled smugly as he took a careful sip. Ren was silent for a while, hiding behind his hair, before he said, “Mum and him didn’t want me to know who my grandfather was. Found out, of course. Would sneak out to meet him. He was the best. I didn’t even know what I had, what they’d been trying to take away until I lost him. It crushed me. Yeah, it...just fucking crushed me.”

Hux tipped his head to the side. Ren’s eyes were bright with tears; so this is what it was like to lose a loved one. Hux wanted to offer comfort, but realised he didn’t know how. He took another sip, waiting out Ren’s misery, hoping that companionable silence would be enough. Ren blinked a few times, then sighed and rubbed at his eyes with his wrists.

“Anyway,” he sniffed. “It’s okay now. I didn’t know who I was until I started walking in his shoes, until I took his place and—Fuck.”

“But you’re you,” Hux said, and Ren chuckled darkly.

“Exactly. I think I— I’m too much like him, I’m not like him at all, everybody is— Snoke used to, y’know, he said all these things, ‘you’ve got his brains,’ and he’d be like, ‘this is Vader’s heir’ when he introduced me to someone and I felt like fucking royalty, but now he’s— Uh. I’ve started disappointing him, first it was just the way he was treating me but now...the last time he said Grandfather would be ashamed of my fuck-ups—”

“Please.” Hux rolled his eyes. “Snoke is an idiot. You’re brilliant—like your grandfather, but thanks to yourself.”

Ren dabbed at his eyes again. “Do you really think—”

“I’m convinced.”

“Huh. Well, I’m not.”

There was a slight pause. The tea was bitter and it burned Hux’s throat as he swallowed. Ren was staring into space. The only noise was Millicent munching on her food in her usual disgusting yet endearing manner.

“What do you mean?” Hux asked flatly.

Ren looked at him like he just noticed Hux was there, and that was exactly how Hux started to feel—like he was interrupting; he just lost his father, and what were they talking about? Ren, Ren, Ren. To be fair, he was kind of relieved that the focus has shifted, even if it made him insignificant and blurred. He was standing in Ren’s kitchen, in Ren’s shirt, drinking Ren’s tea; he owed him his attention, even if he couldn’t muster up much sympathy. Ren had no real reason to doubt his abilities: Hux believed in him fiercely and seeing his confidence waver was nothing short of a personal offense.

“Rey says I’ll never be like Grandfather,” Ren complained. “That I’m a Vader-wannabe while I should aspire to be like Anakin; and it made me think, but then again, they’re so different—like Ben Solo and myself.”

“Don’t you give a rat’s ass about that hipster hooligan,” Hux said as he reached out for Ren’s hand. It was an awkward attempt at consoling him, but it was the thought what mattered, wasn’t it? He laced their fingers, and squeezed. “You’re Kylo Ren, and you’re Vader’s grandson, and nobody in their right mind can deny that,” he addressed Ren’s chest, unable to meet his eyes. “You’re who you say you are. The world just needs to listen and watch as you make yourself happen.”

“You make it sound easy,” Ren said, bumping his forehead against Hux’s.

“Never said it was easy.”

“It’d be nice to know what I want myself to be. I thought I’ve made a choice, but now I’m not so sure.”

“You’re you, you’re mine,” Hux blurted out; a shitty, cliché answer; but maybe it was what Ren wanted to hear, because he kissed him. It wasn’t a particularly great kiss, but it was comforting, and Hux’s whole body sang with need for more.

Ren pulled back. “Let’s make breakfast,” he said.

“Let’s,” Hux muttered, disappointed.

 

**8 November**

 

Thanisson brought in Hux’s lunch at one on the dot, the blessed soul. It was a simple takeout from Duck and Waffle, but as soon as the spicy smell of angus beef tartare hit Hux, he realised he wasn’t hungry. He signalled Thanisson to just leave it wherever, busy talking with the funeral director over the phone.

“...if that’s included in the disbursement costs. Got it. Cremation. Uh-huh. Please. I have. That’s already taken care of. Uh-huh.”

He probably didn’t get the universal signal for _‘put it down’_ right because Thanisson just stood there, eyes round, clutching the box. Hux subtly turned the chair away from him, spinning slowly until he was facing the London skyline. The reflection of his shocked intern was superimposed on the Thames.

“Much obliged. Thank you.” He said his goodbyes and finished the call, taking a moment to watch the swirling clouds and give Thanisson a chance to state his business. He didn’t. “How can I help you?” he sighed, but when he turned back to him he had his most pleasant expression on.

“Who died, Mr. Hux?” Thanisson asked. His tone implied a vague suspicion of foul play or some equally terrible business. Hux smiled at him, which seemed to only unnerve him further.

“My father.”

“Oh no!” Thanisson gasped. “I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t know—My condolences. Can I ask— Oh, it must be pretty recent—”

“I got the news Saturday night,” Hux said. _New York time._ Thanisson didn’t have to know that.

“Would you—Could you take the day off?”

Hux furrowed his brows. “That won’t be necessary. Please just put the box in the fridge, thank you.”

Thanisson shifted his weight. “It’s still hot,” he said lamely.

“Put it atop the fridge, in that case. I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call you a cab—”

“I can’t afford to take the day off,” Hux interrupted with a certain edge. “I already took the fifth off. No-one seems to understand th—” He bit off the sentence. Cleared his throat. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to—”

“I understand, sir,” Thanisson said. His protegé. He was so proud of him; it was no secret he wanted him to take over one day. He was almost like a son, without all the sentiments and emotional burden of familial relations. In that moment, Hux hated him with a boiling rage.

“That will be all,” he said coolly, and watched him leave. Thanisson closed the glass door with special care. Hux was tempted to throw his Macbook at it. Break something.

_Calm down. You’re currently experiencing distress,_ he told himself. _You’re not yourself. Assess the situation. Deep breaths. 80% irrational anger, 20% grief. Report on situation: I am located in my office. It’s my lunch break. I just want to do my job. What if I can’t? See, you’re only afraid because you’re upset. Upset and weak and a mess, you’re a mess, get a hold of yourself, you’re better than this, you’re better, no no no, start again. Deep breaths. 86% panic. Chest pains? Not yet. Is a panic attack likely? That’d be lovely, wouldn’t it?_

He reached for his phone without thinking. He should just get over himself and text Ren. Say _I need you._ Say _I feel like shit._ Say _wish you were here._ Say anything. He stared at the screen, thumbs hesitating over the keypad. No. No, he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be this weak. He shouldn’t break so easily.

 

**7 November**

 

“I don’t want to waste this day,” Hux said. He was sitting on Ren’s velvet couch in Ren’s tee, munching on avocado toast. His legs were draped over Ren’s legs, who was caressing his shin absent-mindedly.

“What would you like to do?” he asked.

“What would we be doing if he didn’t—?”

“Each other.”

Hux scoffed. He turned to watch Millicent, who was on the lookout for birds, taking full advantage of the penthouse’s glass walls. She seemed happy to be here. Hux could relate. He wished they could stay.

“Let's go for a fucking walk,” he proposed. “Might clear my head.”

“Good idea,” Ren said, getting to his feet immediately. Hux made a strangled noise much like a mewl—he didn't want Ren to leave, not even for a minute, but he was ashamed to be so clingy. Ren chuckled and dipped down for a kiss. His lips tasted of avocado, of course. “Wanna finish breakfast first, bunny?”

“Um, _yeah,_ ” Hux said. Ren got to his knees in front of him, laying his head over his knees. He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin.

“I’m waiting,” he said. Hux hummed and started petting his hair. Ren buried his face between his thighs, his big nose probing the soft flesh there. Hux briefly considered asking him to eat him out while he finished his toast, but thought better of it. It was nice as it was: the casual intimacy, the ridiculousness of it. Maybe next time. How long was grief supposed to last anyway? How long would he feel like he’s fallen through the cracks, landing in a universe where everything was a shadow of a shadow? He caressed Ren’s nape. _Please stay. Please be real._

“You’re cute like this,” he told him. He wanted to go on, but couldn’t. _Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for helping. Thank you for trying._

 

**10 November**

 

Brendol refused to rent out his flat while he was in the hospital; it stood empty, awaiting his return. It looked like a depressing hotel room, leather and wood and way too many empty surfaces, almost provocative in its small-minded minimalism.

Hux had grown up here.

They’d had a nice house before the Empire collapsed. He didn’t really remember it, but he could never forget the feeling of displacement which lingered after they had moved: this flat was never a _home._ He remembered his father yelling at him for putting his cocoa on the glass and iron coffee-table; he remembered a keen awareness that the throw pillows were more expensive and valuable than him, and that he should never touch them with sticky hands. He always sat with his back straight and never walked around without slippers, lest he damage the parquetry; maybe all the precaution was worth it, because it shone like a fucking mirror even now.

He felt like an intruder. He wanted to go home. He had his own home now. That was the whole point of adulthood. Boarding school after boarding school and in the summer, imprisonment in this bloody flat; he started saving money to move as soon as he was sixteen, and thanks to the First Order and Sloane and hard work, privilege, and Snoke’s slimy tactics, he not only got his own place after Cambridge, he was also filthy rich. Now all this was also his. He didn’t want any of it.

He either had to sell this sodden flat himself or find a real estate agent who didn’t get on his nerves, and he was also stuck with trying to track down the old comrades Brendol wanted to inherit money, or his stamp collection, or even his bloody _telly._ His will was extensive and perplexing, giving his lawyer a perpetual headache. Hux was mentioned in passing. He considered flushing the money down the loo. Or making it into a bouquet. Or something.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fumbled to get it and scoffed in disappointment when he saw it was from the florist. No new message from Ren, then. He should stop expecting them. It was his turn to say something, and all he could say would be _I’m doing great, if that’s what you want to hear. Everything is just fucking dandy. Stop ignoring me, bitch._

 

**7 November**

 

The ocean stretched beyond the horizon, a deep, distant blue with a steel-grey hue. The waves kept lashing out at the sandy shore of the aptly named Long Beach. It was a surreal place, a mismatched neighbourhood with patchy roads next to the majestic waters. It suited Hux’s mood. They’d abandoned the car in a car park and walked down the endless pavement, hand-in-hand, pursued by the winds of a brewing storm. Hux regretted leaving his trench coat in the car, but the sun had been shining just a moment ago.

He felt like a drifting balloon. If Ren let go, he’d just float away, never to be seen again. He held on tight as Ren stopped to queue for a hot dog. It was adorably stereotypical: as if the view couldn’t be enjoyed without some junk food.

Long Beach was no Brighton or Bournemouth, for sure, but Hux loved it here, loved the open space, loved that he could _breathe_ , and he grew fucking fond of New York in general. How did that Melville quote go? “You cannot spill a drop of American blood without spilling the blood of the whole world;” and apparently, you cannot fall in love with an American without falling in love with everything: the sky, the sand, the ocean, a country as absurdly immense as Ren himself.

They found a bench and Hux took his rightful place in Ren’s lap as he wolfed down his hotdog and talked about some chap who accidentally caught a shark while fishing here. Hux wasn’t really listening; he focused on the rumble of Ren’s voice, not the words. It lulled him like the crashing of the waves and the distant thunder. In that moment, he had nowhere else to be, nothing else to think about; just press close and listen.

“We should get going,” Ren said. “Look at that. That looks bad.”

The massive storm cloud perched over the water was actually aesthetically pleasing, but Hux got his meaning.

In the end, they had to make a run for it; the rain caught up with them halfway through, soaking their suits instantly. Ren peeled off his jacket as they were running, holding it above Hux’s head like a tent.

“You idiot, put that back on! You’ll be sick again!”

“Last thing you need right now is to catch a cold,” Ren growled. Hux was torn. He really liked Ren’s protectiveness. It was definitely a turn-on. But he really didn’t want him to end up in a hospital. He made the only compromise he could: he took off his own tweed jacket and threw it at Ren’s stupid head.

“There,” he exclaimed. Ren let out a winded, barking laugh Hux would never forget. They ran through puddles in Chelsea boots and Oxford shoes absolutely inappropriate for the weather, and as much as Hux hated getting wet (at least, in this context), a bubbling joy spread from his chest and made him giddy by the time they reached the car. The lot was almost empty: everybody worth their salt fucked right off.

“Climb in, quick!” Ren said, manhandling him into the passenger's seat as if his life depended on it. Hux laughed, shaking droplets from his ruined hair, messy and wavy and an appalling shade of ginger. Ren got rid of his soaked shirt and turned on the heating, then started rubbing Hux’s arms. “Let’s get your shirt off,” he murmured.

Hux cocked an eyebrow. “Oh my, I’m starting to think my noble saviour has ulterior motives.”

Ren snorted, and let his thumbs catch at Hux’s nipples as he stroked his arm. “What makes you think that, hm?”

Hux arched into his touch, head thrown back. He felt crazed. He’d have to be back in London in a couple of hours, he’d have to deal with his father’s death, go to work come Monday, run a fucking corporation, but right _now,_ right _here_ he could afford to squirm under the big hands of his boyfriend, pant into his mouth as he kissed him, as if nothing mattered, as if he had no responsibilities.

“Please fuck me,” he pleaded. “Please, I can’t hold back any longer, need you, come on.”

“In the parking lot?” Ren frowned, but he started unbuttoning Hux’s shirt, just as eager as he was—knowing full well it was now or God knows when. It was like they were tricking time together, hiding from it in each other’s arms.

“Never fucked in a car?” Hux asked, unbuckling Ren’s belt. He couldn’t wait to get his cock out; it always felt like unwrapping a gift, something precious just for him to play with. Ren cleared his throat and pushed a button. Hux’s eyes went round as the backseat slowly flattened: it wasn’t the most comfortable imitation of a bed he’d ever seen, but it was very convincing. “I can’t believe you have a fuckwagon,” he whispered.

“It’s very practical to have one,” Ren said, casually getting a half-empty bottle of lube from the glovebox. “Busy guy like me. You don’t have to invite over anybody.”

“Wait a minute,” Hux scowled. “First time we met. Literally the first time you ever saw me.”

“Yeah?”

“You wanted to take me home.”

“Yeah, but you’re special.” With that, Ren grabbed Hux’s belt and pulled it towards him. It made a sound as it slipped free which went straight to Hux’s cock, already straining the lace of his knickers.

“You didn’t know that yet,” Hux said. “You didn’t know I was going to be special.”

“Of course I knew; didn’t you?” Ren yanked his trousers off him. Hux spread his legs; maybe this was an answer in itself: _I let you in. I let you stay._

 

**13 November**

 

Brendol’s funeral was a sunny day. The turnout was great: Hux managed to reach Brendol’s former colleagues, students and admirers on short notice. Many of them looked heartsick, but nobody was crying. Phasma was downright smirking in the shade of her feathered hat. Hux envied her, but had to school his features to a somber expression. He slicked his hair back and put on a black suit that had been waiting for the occasion in the back of his closet for over a decade. Brendol would scorn that it still fit; _why can’t you put on any weight, you still look like some lanky teenager, it’s a bloody shame, a man’s gotta eat_ — scoldings over the dinner table, making Hux’s stomach feel tight and tight and tighter.

Sitting in the chapel, he wondered whether the mourners conspired against him: the speeches and farewells sounded so genuine. They called Brendol clever and charismatic, a born leader, a good old boy, trustworthy, charming, fierce, funny, and remembered instances of his generosity, quick wit and bold humour. It was mind-blowing that there were people, and many of them, who _actually_ liked him. Hux’s eulogy was the testimony of an eager son ready to follow his father’s footsteps, eager to embrace his heritage and eternally grateful for his guidance. They all ate it up.

“When I was eight I asked him once, ‘why do you work so much, Papa?’ He put his hand over my shoulder like this, looked me in the eye and said, ‘Armitage, everyone’s Papa works a lot.’ I didn't realize it then, but this was the most valuable lesson I ever learnt from Papa: not just the importance of hard work, but that of humility — for nobody worked as relentlessly for the Order as him, but he never boasted.”

His voice rang clear through the stuffy air of the chapel; a secret echo whispered, _When I was eight I got into hospital with hypothermia. I got a B and didn’t dare go home. I sat on a bench in Regent’s, nearly freezing to death._

_You all know he used to hit me. You tell yourself I must’ve gotten some smacks when I mouthed off. You don’t know about the old sock filled with sand and the wet towels he used on me. They wouldn’t leave a mark but they hurt like a bitch._

_Sloane put an end to all that. I couldn’t invite her. She would've spat on Brendol’s grave, because she was the only one who really knew him; her and me._

_When this shit is over I’m going to her house and we're opening a bottle of champagne. We won’t toast him. We’re just going to get wasted._

 

“Papa was not one to give praise easily,” he said aloud. “You had to work for it. Earning his appreciation was a privilege. My greatest achievement in life is that I could make him proud.” The lines on the paper were writhing and swirling. He stood still and read on, but his left hand kept brushing over a hidden pocket of his waistcoat; the small watch Ren gave him was tickling patiently. The ceremony would soon be over. They’d bury Brendol’s ashes. He’d be gone forever.

When he was finished with his eulogy, throat dry, eyes burning, he expected Brendol to raise from a shadowy corner and point an accusing finger at him: “Liar! Hypocrite! Sociopath! Make him shut up!”

Carrying the urn to its final resting place proved to be the easy part. Especially since Brendol requested a coffin.

Whatever.

Hux wanted him to burn.

 

* * *

**Own nr:** Funeral over. Doing fine. Situation under control.

_Message deleted_

**Own nr:** Miss you.

_Message deleted_

**Own nr:** I’m sorry.

_Message deleted_

 

**7 November**

 

The sound of rain washed away his racking gasps. He was curled up on the backseat-turned-bed of the car, back pressed to Ren’s slick chest who was rutting in and out of him, fucking him hard and fast. Hux’s face contorted with pleasure and his toes curled. He could feel every inch of Ren’s dick digging into him, filling him completely. He was panting helplessly, letting Ren sneak an arm under his knees and almost folding him in half as he pressed closer, deeper. Hux turned back for a kiss: hungry, messy, hot, salty. He turned his tongue lazily as he rocked to meet Ren’s thrusts, moaning into his mouth—a strangled voice that urged Ren on, making him hasten the speed. Hux felt the angle shift inside him and cried out, throwing his head back, clenching around Ren’s twitching cock.

“Fill me up, please please please fuck me full of come, you gotta—”

“Sure you wanna squirm in your seat the whole flight?” Ren whispered into his neck. “Wriggling your wet little ass. No-one would know what’s gotten into you. Maybe they could guess. Bet you would be flushed, red everywhere. Maybe I could help. Cover you with a blanket, slide a finger inside if you promise to keep it down. Rub away the itch. Give you my cock once we’re back in your apartment. Let you bounce on it all night because you’ve been so good.”

“Please,” Hux panted; he ignored everything that made this fantasy impossible, hips shuddering and thrusting against nothing. “I’d ah, I’d really—behave on the plane, wouldn’t want to get fined anyway, I’d hah, I’d deserve—All night just riding you—Ride you dry. You all wrung out and me swimming in your come. Use it as lube as you finger me to sleep. Then I’m busy Monday but I come home at eight and you’re there on the bed, cock standing at attention to greet me—”

“To greet you,” Ren repeated, grinning. Hux clenched around him in warning.

“Shut _up._ You’re hard, okay, your cock is so hard and huge, and I’m probably still loose a bit so all I have to do is sit on it, just sit on your dick as I go about my business, calling the—funeral director—Anyway I’m on the phone and I’m also on your fat cock and no-one can tell—”

“I turn us over when you’re finished,” Ren said, grinding his cock against Hux’s prostate. His breath hitched while Ren went on, “Slide inside you. Spread your little ass. Maybe use some toys. Cockring for you, or some nice clips for your nipples. Keep you on the edge.”

“Choke me,” Hux blurted out.

“I’m choking you and you’re making the prettiest sounds,” Ren whispered into his ear wetly. Hux grabbed his hand and guided it to his throat. He was afraid Ren would hesitate, but he closed his windpipe right off. Hux whined, crazed, and kicked out as Ren licked at his ear. “Grab my wrist. Two taps for letting go, three taps for easing my grip. Got it?”

Hux nodded. He was about to pass out, impaled on Ren’s cock, throat crushed under his hand. Ren was watching him intently for any sight of discomfort, still fucking him viscously. Hux came untouched, spurting come all over his trembling stomach. Ren stopped squeezing his neck, but held his hand there as he grinded his hips up to his.

Hux was catching his breath, blissed out, shaking; but the first wave of worry came as soon as the high of his orgasm started fading off. “Don’t slow down now, I have a plane to catch,” he croaked.

“We’ll get there in time,” Ren said. “Relax. I promised to fill your ass.”

“Actually, if you could erhm, come on my back? I’m really—It’s an eight hour flight. Y’know. That’s a lot.”

“How about I eat you out after?” Ren nuzzled into his neck. The offer was very tempting. Hux considered it, shifting around a bit; Ren came with a beautiful groan.

“Well,” Hux said. “That’s settled. _Bon appetit mon cher._ ”

 

**16 November**

 

 

The cubicle seemed to be collapsing around him.

“What are you saying?” he asked, measured.

“SKB, sir. It’s gone.”

Hux slowly shook his head. He stood behind Rodion’s chair, gripping the back with whitening knuckles as he watched the screen of the laptop. He wanted to raise his voice, to scream questions and accusations, but they really had to keep it down. The whole floor was probably eavesdropping. No need to cause panic. He focused his attention on Rodion’s Beatles-themed decorations, and said on an even tone, “Define ‘gone.’”

“It’s been… wiped out. No trace.”

“Of course there is a trace. You can’t just wipe out a cybersecurity system.”

“It’s not here,” Rodion said. He was clearly panicking. Hux couldn’t work with panic. There was a tiny problem: he recently fired the head of the IT department, Mandetat. Rodion got promoted to his position a week ago; of course he didn’t have a clue what to do.

“Isolate the servers and change the credentials,” Hux said. “We’re assembling a task force to determine the reach of the damage.” He squeezed his shoulder in a gesture he hoped to be reassuring and not crippling, and started marching away. One deep breath, one, two, three. All eyes were on him. He needed the CIO and the chief risk officers and _all_ the cybersecurity people, and he needed them _right this instance._ He got hold of his phone, mind blank for a moment as he squinted at the screen. Ren was calling him. Head swimming and heart heavy, he read his name over and over, like a prayer. The caller ID said _Kylo Ren_ , not that silly aubergine emoji. His business line. Hux didn’t know what to expect. He pushed in the glass door of the department with his shoulders, and accepted the call as he stepped into the cool corridor.

“Hux speaking,” he said, shaking with nerves.

“Mr. Hux,” Ren said; his stomach dropped, _no no no no don’t do that, don’t ever, I can’t take it not now please please please call me by my name call me Armitage call me bunny call me fucking babe please—_

“Pardon?” he mumbled; Ren said something but he couldn’t—He was dizzy, he needed to alert everybody, he needed to—

“I asked whether you’re experiencing a security breach,” Ren repeated. His voice was warm and soft. Hux wanted to wrap himself in it, use it as a cloak or a comforter, just nestle in the gentleness. He started taking the steps, afraid what could be overheard in the lift.

“We are. Is it the Resistance?”

There was a beat.

“Yes.”

“Tokyo—?”

“All of the First Order.”

“Uh-huh,” Hux muttered. “I see. I figured.”

A beat again.

“That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Yeah, I can… confirm that there’s a security breach, Mr. Ren.”

“My CIO will be in touch.”

_But will you?_ Hux wanted to ask. He ended the call wordlessly before he could make a fool of himself, and began to run.

 

**7 November**

 

Hux double-checked that everything was in his dopp kit. He’d only packed the essentials, which meant four different hair products, a shaving kit complete with a straight razor, a trusty age delay facial cleanser, soap, bodyscrub, lip balm, eye gel, deodorant, toothbrush, fragrance. He looked around one last time in Ren’s grand bathroom, half-wishing he forgot something—just to delay their goodbye, just to leave Ren something to remember him by.

He entered the bedroom with a painful pang in his chest. He glanced at the bed, then blinked a few times. There was an open suitcase on it. It wasn’t his.

“Ren?” he called weakly.

“Yeah?” Ren said and stepped out of the walk-in closet, balancing four suits on hangers and beaming.

Hux pointed at the suitcase with the dopp kit. “Are you...What are you doing?”

“Packing?” Ren snorted, and dropped his burden on the bed. Hux’s stomach sank.

“Ren. Ren, love, you’re not coming with me.”

“Of course I am.” Ren disappeared into the closet again. Hux followed, equal measures nervous and irritated. The closet was all dark colours, neat and organised, clothes and accessories lined up according to style and colour. The smell of Ren’s detergent lingered in the air, which made it hard to be angry with him, because who could be mad at such a nice-smelling boyfriend, but God, Hux was getting furious.

“What makes you think—When did I agree to this? Just tell me when did I—”

“In the car,” Ren interrupted. He got himself a stack of underwear. _A stack._

“That was a fantasy,” Hux said. “Dirty talk. What have you. You can’t _possibly_ think—”

“—that I won’t abandon you when you need me the most?” Ren turned to look him over. He had the audacity to wink. “Yeah, I don’t think so. And if you’re worried about the plane—”

“I’m not worried about the plane—”

“—I know a guy with a private jet; couple of guys, in fact, and I’m _this close_ to being one of them.”

“You’re not coming,” Hux snapped, shrill. Ren passed him wordlessly, carrying socks and briefs. Hux followed him back to the bedroom. “I said no!” he yelled.

“Heard you!” Ren shouted back, making Hux startle. Ren shoved the stuff into the suitcase and zipped it up, although it was far from being full. “I heard you,” he repeated on a normal volume, “but you’re not making any fucking sense.”

“ _I’m_ not making any fucking—” Hux hissed, and danced back a bit when Ren all but leapt to him. He had him cornered. Fine. Be it then. Hux put his chin up and stared him down. “What about your job?”

“What about my job?” Ren growled, towering over him. Hux couldn’t quite decide whether Ren was trying to seduce him or intimidate him. Maybe both.

“Don’t you have responsibilities for the First Order?”

“Fuck the Order.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I don’t give a _shit,_ ” Ren hissed. “Neither should you. Your well-being—”

“Fucking _please._ ”

“Your well-being is much more important,” Ren finished stubbornly. “You’re top priority. You’re number one.” He cupped Hux’s face. Hux let him, but pulled away when Ren tried to kiss him.

“Let me go,” he said coolly. Ren did. Hux slipped away, marching to his luggage in the sun-soaked living room, Ren in tow.

“I just want to take care of you.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “I can take care of myself, I’m thirty-five, not a fucking toddler, Jesus Christ.”

“I can’t let you go like this,” Ren said, defeated. Hux looked away, busying himself with the luggage lying over the sofa. He had his passport, his ticket, his _plan._ Ren had no place in it. “You won’t stay, so I’m coming with you, because you can use some help. Yesterday night—”

“Don’t bring that up. I’m fine now.” He straightened up, straightened his jacket. Right. He only needed to collect Millicent, and he was good to go. Alone.

“I’m trying to—”

“You’re being an invasive, controlling prick,” Hux said slowly, turning to look him dead in the eyes. Ren lingered by the door, looking ready to cry. “If this is your sick idea of yet another grand romantic gesture—”

“It’s basic human--”

“It’s not basic human decency to make decisions for me!”

“You’ll disappear on me,” Ren said. “I know you. You will. You’ll let grief crush you, because you think you deserve to suffer. I can’t stand you suffer. How can you expect your partner to—”

“You’re not my partner, then,” Hux interrupted, voice breaking on the last syllable. Ren’s face fell; Hux already regretted saying it, but there was no going back.

“You don’t mean that,” Ren said. “No, you can’t say that.”

“We’re not breaking up.” Hux wanted to go up to him and hug him. Crawl on his hands and knees and kiss Ren’s feet and tell him they’re going to survive this, that they’re going to be stronger than heartbreak. “We’re going on a break, if that helps to keep your conscience clean—”

Ren’s face was blank. His tears started to fall, but his voice didn’t tremble when he said, “Don’t blame it on me. I never wanted this. I don’t want this. Can’t do it. Can’t.”

Hux stepped closer. There was still too much distance between them. “Then let me go,” he pleaded. “Let me—”

Their eyes met. They started walking towards each other the same minute, reached out and grabbed at each other. Hux got a hold of Ren’s lapels, Ren had his tie. Another glance; they locked gazes, and then pulled, clashing in a kiss. 

They never kissed like this before, all teeth and anger. Ren started walking them backwards until the back of Hux’s knees hit the sofa. Ren pulled back and pushed him over his luggages, then climbed on top of him. Hux could’ve told him to stop. He didn’t. Ren kissed him again, putting all his weight on him. Hux heard something creak in his luggage. He didn’t care. He closed his legs around Ren’s waist and clawed at his back.

“You can go,” Ren whispered, breath tickling Hux’s arched neck, “but you can’t leave. Not like this.”

“I think what I’m trying to say is that I need some space,” Hux said, pushing up to grind against Ren.

Ren grabbed his hips and stilled him, looking him over as he said, “You can have it. See how you like it.”

 

**18 November**

 

Hux fully expected Ren to call him back, on his private line this time, to tease him and gloat, a _ll I had to do was say your name and your breath caught in your throat, I heard it, I heard you._ He must’ve known what his voice did to him, he must’ve known that hanging up on him was agony; but no call came.

_Two can play this game,_ Hux thought. Eleven days and counting. He forgot who was punishing whom.

There was a Skywalker who wasn’t ignoring him though. He’d been certain Amidala would write to him; he just didn’t expect the message to involve a home address and an invitation for tea. Amidala lived in a little flat on Weighhouse street, above a dairy shop. Her whole neighbourhood smelt amazing. Hux resisted the temptation of a carrot cake for emotional support and hit the buzzer.

The place was charming, stylish, lived-in, with a bohemian charm: the residence of a politically conscious flower child. Amidala welcomed him in a richly embroidered kaftan and casually offered him every type of tea known to man. Hux felt awkward and out of place, and said yes to a cup of oolong against his better judgement.

Amidala put on a blue kettle and said, “You know why you’re here, don’t you?”

“The cyber attack,” Hux nodded. He tried to stand in a way that he wouldn’t knock over anything; it seemed impossible: the kitchen was packed.

“I believe it’s time to reevaluate our agreement,” Amidala said. Hux wanted to remind her that they didn’t have an _agreement,_ per se, but he was too intimidated to voice this. “Please take a seat in the living room, I’ll be with you shortly.”

Hux scurried away, more than happy for the opportunity to escape. He located the sofa closest to the rustic coffee-table, a mustard-coloured monstrosity. He stopped short when he noticed a rumpled comforter over the armrest along with a plush racoon. Further examination revealed a holographic backpack on the ground, clearly not belonging to Amidala, and tacky transparent boots he’d seen before. So Rey Skywalker was staying over at granny’s. Interesting. It put her on the scene of the crime: their hacker was from the UK.

Hoping for more evidence, Hux walked around the living room, toppling over plants and ottomans, blinded by the hypnotic colours. If he lived here the sheer cheerfulness of the place would make him want to scream.

The mantelpiece made him stop short. There were half a dozen framed photos on and above it, pictures of the family. Ren’s easy smile lured him in; he had to be in his early twenties, beaming, shirtless, hanging from a cliff. He had a very unfortunate haircut, but still looked better than his sixteen year old self; not like Hux had anything against eyeliner or jewellry, but the black mess of Ren with his bright birthday cake and adorable little cousin in his lap was absurd on so many levels. At least it was evidence that goths _did_ grow up to be businessmen with 8-to-5 jobs. Ren was pictured with his uncle in his twink glory years on Hannukah, his mum and dad on holiday in what appeared to be Egypt, there was a selfie with his grandfather in the hospital and some photogenic evidence of a laser tag fight he’d obviously lost to a very smug Rey (age about 9-10). Hux wondered what made one give up all this. _Heritage_ , Ren said once. _Finishing what Grandfather started._ Was it worth it? Hux always thought he’d be a different man if he had a family. Uncles and aunts and cousins and grandparents. A mother.

“I wanted to give you my condolences,” Amidala said as she entered the room, carrying a teatray. “I heard what happened to Brendol. Must’ve been really hard for you.”

“Still is,” Hux said with an embarrassed smile. Amidala nodded, and indicated for him to sit. Hux walked up to the sofa, pointedly put the racoon aside, and sat down. Amidala poured out the tea.

“So,” she said, lowering herself onto an ottoman.

“So.”

They both took a careful sip; the temperature was just right. It didn’t change the fact that Hux hated oolong.

“I take it we’re in a delicate position,” Amidala said.

“I can go into details.”

“That won’t be necessary. I only need to know what concerns Ben.”

Hux may or may not have checked Ren’s files before his own, to make sure he was safe.

“Our mysterious attacker obtained a portion of the sensitive material which had been on the pendrive, including the TIE-pipeline accident and the 2015 fuel tank mishap. Those can be linked to Mr. Ren. However,” he raised his voice when he saw Amidala’s face drop, “analysing the data I came to the conclusion that their focus was on collecting dirt on Snoke, and, interestingly, on Vader.”

Amidala arched a bow. “What’s new,” she muttered, and took another sip from her tea.

“My conclusion is that our attacker is not giving up,” Hux said, “but now we know their specific focus. They’re after Snoke; but if they manage to bring him down, the whole board, including your grandson, will be liable for a lawsuit. Fortunately, the demolition of Hosnian Prime—”

“Don’t use ‘fortunately’ and ‘demolition of Hosnian Prime’ in the same sentence in my presence,” Amidala interrupted.

Ears burning, Hux muttered an apology and gulped from his tea. Whatever. Wrecking Hosnian Prime was the best thing he ever did. Without their funding, the Resistance was vulnerable. They made a mistake destroying SKB; it was an act of desperation—and Hux knew exactly how to hit back. The question was whether his punch would land on Ren.

“Have you heard from him?” Hux asked. “From Mr. Ren.”

“In fact, I did,” Amidala said carefully. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Do you still want me to get him fired?”

“I think that’d be for the best.”

Hux begged to differ. It was true that Snoke had too strong an influence over Ren; but it didn’t mean that Ren was the one who needed to go. They really needed to talk this through; but Ren has always been Snoke’s pawn, so there was the possibility he just wouldn’t listen and take offense, and—talking to him included calling. And the first one to call would lose the fight.

Hux hated to lose. He hated to be wrong. He really wanted to prove he could live without Ren if he fucking pleased.

On the other hand, he absolutely _couldn’t._ He felt like one more fucking day of pride-induced separation would cost him his sanity. Overthrowing Snoke together sounded like a fun bonding experience.

“I’m in,” he said.

The tricky part would be preserving the integrity of the First Order. If Amidala expected Ren to come crawling back to the Resistance as the Order crumbled apart, she would be disappointed. There was no fucking way Hux was going to get _him_ fired; not ever. No; he was going to make him the Chairman.

 

**19 November**

 

_Waterloo - I was defeated, you won the war_  
_Waterloo - Promise to love you for ever more_  
_Waterloo - Couldn't escape if I wanted to_  
_Waterloo - Knowing my fate is to be with you_  
_Waterloo - Finally facing my Waterloo_

The scene was set. Abba blasting in the background, Hux on his single bed in lemonade pink silk PJs, hair strategically tousled, glasses on, sucking on a cigarette. Cute and lonely; how could Ren resist? It was past 11 p.m; 6 p.m in New York time. Ren would be home by now. Hux loved to imagine him moping about his penthouse, all those square feet of solitude.

There were intrusive thoughts which suggested that Ren might be out to party, having a blast while Hux dealt with his dead father, his wounded ego and his recovering corporation. Maybe Ren was in a fancy nightclub, shaking glitter out of his hair, laughing and dancing and chatting up twinks for a free drink. But no, he wouldn’t do that. That wouldn’t be technically cheating, to be fair, considering they were on a break—but Ren had standards Hux could trust. Hux was a fine wine. Ren wouldn’t be back to slurping cider after he’d tasted what Hux had to offer.

_I made you addicted,_ Hux thought as he glared at his phone, daring himself to make the call. _Tell me how do you like your withdrawal symptoms. You can never ever go cold turkey on me. I’m your moonshine. Sip me up._

He made the call, positioning the phone to show a flattering angle. The collar of his PJs were open, allowing a glimpse of the strap of his bralette. Was it desperate? Yes. Did he care? No.

For a gut-wrenching moment he thought Ren wouldn’t answer, or worse, hang up on him. He didn’t take the possibility of refusal into account. He swallowed around a lump in his throat, and then, god bless, he got his first glimpse of Ren after twelve days of radio silence.

He stole his fucking breath.

Ren was in his kitchen, shirtsleeves rolled up, hair pulled back, stray locks framing his face but his ears exposed. Jesus, his adorable Dumbo ears. His beauty marks. His crooked teeth. Hux loved him.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“Hey,” Ren said. “Look what the cat dragged in, huh?” The line sounded off, rehearsed; the defenseless smile on his lips was a saving grace, making Hux smirk.

“So,” he said smugly, “we had our first fight, congratulations to us.”

“Wasn’t the first,” Ren said, narrowing his eyes at him. Hux wanted to kiss him. He couldn’t. How could he fix that?

“Want to fight about fights, Mr. Ren?”

“I’d like that, Mr. Hux. Very meta.” Ren leant to his counter, and tilted his head, lips pursed. “Is that Abba?”

“Best band of the seventies? Indeed it is.”

“You’re listening to Abba,” Ren muttered to himself. “I don’t know what to do with that information.”

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“Shoot.”

Hux arched a brow. “ _Don’t go wasting your emotions,_ ” he hummed. “ _Lay all your love on me_.”

God, it was silly. It wasn’t what he’s been expecting at all; he thought they might fight again, but that this time, there’d be a winner, not just bitter losers licking their wounds in different corners of the world. That he’d need to seduce and pursue Ren, remind him why this relationship was worth it—the same way he’d sell a deal. And here they were, singing and giggling and sparkles all around them. Profoundly in love.

“ _Honey I'm still free, take a chance on me,_ ” Ren serenaded, deep voice bubbling with laughter, “ _If you need me, let me know, gonna be around_.”

“ _Voulez-vous? Take it now or leave it, now it’s all we get, nothing promised, no regrets_.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “Some regrets.”

Ren chuckled. “Such as?” Happiness was a good look in him. Hux wanted to see him like this, always, always.

“Not planning what I want to say.”

“What do you want to say?”

He let smoke roll from his lips. The first time they met Ren lit Hux’s cigarette and set him on fire. There were flames in his eyes that night. The next day they had their meeting, and said their first goodbye in a diner. Hux thought it was a farewell until Ren cupped his face and kissed his eyelids. What they had was already too precious to lose; it took him a while to realise. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“I didn’t come back empty-handed,” he said.

“No, you haven’t.” Ren was visibly eyeing the exposed brastrip. That was part of the deal, but it would come later. Hux took a long drag. Ren was just as eager as himself; he must’ve missed him just as badly—he didn’t have to ask to know this. He noticed the dark circles around his eyes, his slumped shoulders. Ren deserved so much more than he had. He had so much potential.

“What if,” Hux said slowly, “what if I could give you unlimited power?”

“Then we’d be an unlimited power couple,” Ren deadpanned, then added, “I’m listening.”

Hux took a deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **Content warnings:** dealing with death of a parent / some details on past child abuse (in italics while Hux is giving an eulogy) / under negotiated, but enthusiastically consensual kink (choking) / fight ending in some good ol’ hard Kylux dynamics; emotional manipulation, blackmail, controlling behaviour and physical intimidation all over the place
> 
> Many thanks to @[bioticnerfherder](archiveofourown.org/users/bioticnerfherder) for betaing! || Title from "Corpse Song" by Margaret Atwood
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/ficstag)


	9. Take a Bow, Play the Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 of the Suit Porn AU, in which Ren and Hux set their master plan in motion, and find an ally-slash-advisory in Rey, who’s not convinced she can trust her cousin. Desperate measures are taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prevously on _Here and Where You Are_ : Following Brendol’s death, Ren and Hux had a fallout. Since Hux wanted more space to deal with his emotions, he said he wanted a break—and when he realised he didn’t really, it was already too late. However, a security breach at First Order Corps forced the grudging couple to break the ice, and they made peace over Skype. Hux even hinted at having a plan to make amends that included the promise of unlimited power. We pick up a month later, in medias res. 
> 
> Please read the end notes for **content warnings** , the chapter is potentially triggering.

“What’s in it for me?” Rey asked the very question Hux dreaded she would. She was sitting cross-legged on Ren’s velvet sofa in dungarees and a sweater she should’ve seriously reconsidered, hair up in a messy bun, hints of glitter giving her freckles. She looked like they found her climbing the fence of Coachella, not like she’d been cordially invited to a private business meeting.

Hux started to have misgivings. Again.

“I thought it was self-evident,” Ren said. His left eye twitched. He tried his damndest to look calm and non-threatening, but the way he was looming over Rey and refusing to take a seat made his efforts not exactly convincing.

Rey put her chin up, returning his cold gaze. “I want you to describe it in detail,” she said slowly. “Do your best at mansplaining and spoon feed your grand masterplan to me, because I’ve had it with your vague promises and bloody schemes. Also, I don’t exactly owe you any favours, so _tell me what’s in it for me_.”

“ _I’m_ doing you a favour,” Ren growled, drawing up to his full height. He peered at Hux, who occupied a wine-red armchair in the corner, playing the part of the patient observer. “I told you she wouldn’t be interested,” he said.

In fact, he’d told Hux she would be _very_ interested. Hux nodded, playing along.

“That’s regrettable,” he said, and turned to Rey. She immediately became defensive, crossing her arms over her chest. For all their arguments, she thought that she knew how to handle Ren; apparently, she was still making her mind up about Hux. “It’s not about you,” Hux told her.

“Never is,” Rey said. There was no resentment in it. “But the Resistance—”

“They’ll get what they always wanted.” Ren turned his back to Rey and walked to the glass wall of the living room. Pretending to be pensive, perhaps. He stared at the Hudson. Hux caught sight of the tiniest tug of a satisfied smile on his plush lips. So Ren thought this was going well. That was as reassuring as it was confusing. “I won’t tell you we’re doing this for your friends,” Ren said. “Our plans just so _happen_ to align. Your assistance is required.” He looked over his shoulder. “So join us,” he finished, nonchalant.

Hux flinched. It was too soon for an outright offer. They’d been here for less than ten minutes, and Rey still hadn’t touched the La Croix Ren got for her. In Hux’s estimation, they were not in a winning position.

“Thanks, I’ll pass,” Rey said with a touch of smugness. She clearly enjoyed this refusal. Hux realised Ren hoped for this exact reaction; he felt the beginning of a headache from trying to keep up with Ren’s twisted strategy. It was like watching somebody play chess who kept altering between black and white, grabbing whichever figurine gave him more leverage.

They should’ve discussed their plan of action in more detail. There had been no time for it; they hadn’t left any. Twenty minutes after Hux’s plane had landed, they’d been blowing each other in the airport bathroom. It had been the first time they’d seen each other since their break. It wasn’t even proper reunion sex—they’d to hurry and fetch Rey. Her part in the plan was essential.

“Let me walk you through what we’re asking,” Hux said as he leant forward in his chair. It was all right to express eagerness; it’d give Rey the impression she had the upper hand. She tilted her head to the side, intent, alert. God, she showed too much _real_ emotion. She put too much faith in sincerity, believing that if she demanded it she’d be given everything she needed. Hux saw right through her, and saw a clear resemblance to Ren in her uncompromising bluntness. “We are asking you to be part of a conspiracy against Chairman Snoke,” Hux said, pretending to have the same capability of honesty as the Skywalker cousins.

“Yes,” Rey said.

Hux shifted in his seat. Rey’s direct gaze was starting to make him a bit uncomfortable. “To answer your question,” he said, “the only way to bring him down is to bring down the Order with him—which is something you’ve been trying to do.”

“Allegedly,” Rey corrected him, an almost threatening smile on her lips.

“Indeed,” Hux said. He adjusted his collar, overplaying his fretfulness, and glanced at Ren as if he was seeking permission to continue. As if they hadn’t gone through _this_ part a thousand times. “I think you’ll understand the offer better if we tell you what _our_ gain is.”

“Been wondering,” Rey confirmed. She bit her lips. Interesting. She was anxious—for what? Maybe she wanted it to work. Maybe she wanted it to be real.

Poor thing.

“Ren and I plan to start our own company,” Hux said, voice soothing and deceivingly soft. “We have the means. Also, we’d appreciate immunity from the scandals and lawsuits following the Order’s downfall.”

“You want me to believe you’re traitors.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“ _He_ would.” Rey turned to Kylo. He was casually leaning on the window, and pointed at his chest with an eyebrow perfectly arched. “Yes, you totally would,” Rey went on. “And you wouldn’t _betray_ grandfather’s legacy like this, so stop wasting my time with your lies.”

Ren rolled his eyes. “Please. I’m not married to the Order. I want to be—more authentic than they could ever be. The First Order is obsolete. It has outgrown its potential. There’s a new dawn waiting for me, for us. A new start.”

It was a bit too much, but Hux suspected Rey would expect some embellishments. She furrowed her brows, chewing on her lips now.

“What does Mr. Hux have to do with it?” she asked, and with that, she made her first big mistake. She should’ve looked Hux in the eye and interrogated _him._ He might’ve crumbled. He’d never been a good liar.

“We’re lovers,” Ren said on a lofty tone.

“Ew. Who uses that word? Ew.” She turned to Hux, visibly confused. “Is it true?”

“It’s a secret,” Hux said, searching Ren with his gaze again, only half-pretending to be in need of his support. Ren smiled at him warmly. He was unfairly charming like this, the sharp tip of a canine tooth visible. Hux could still taste his come on his tongue, and for all the significance of this meeting with Rey, he couldn’t wait to be rid of her so he and Ren could lurch at each other, shag on the floor like animals, or press their bodies to the glass wall, fucking in full view of New York—seeking comfort, or celebrating; it almost didn’t matter.

“So you’re jumping ship to support your—partner’s dreams,” Rey said. Hux shrugged, pretending that his glee was an abashed boyfriend’s natural reaction to future expectations, not absolute fucking joy that Rey would hand him all his playing cards signed and gift-wrapped. She was really bad at this game. Hux just hoped he could keep his gullible poker face while all this played out.

“We love each other,” Ren said, unable to resist an opportunity to brag. Rey scoffed.

“See,” she said, “this twist kinda bothers me, because granny tells me you can’t stand him. That this is how we ‘save you.’ By getting your sworn enemy to fire you. So you’re lying to _somebody_.”

“It’s her,” they said in unison, making Rey startle. She squinted, looking at Hux and then Ren, as if she was trying to picture them as a couple. She pulled a face, so she’d probably succeeded.

“Why, though?” she asked. “Why didn’t you tell her you wanted to, I don’t know, be free and run into the sunset at Wolf Street, holding hands? She would’ve helped. You know she would. _I_ don’t like the idea of you starting a company. _I_ don’t like helping you.”

“Nobody should know that we’re together,” Hux said before Ren could open his mouth. He suspected Ren’s reply would be laced with self-important insults. “Snoke is quite a homophobe. He’d have us both fired before we would have the chance to stab him in the back.”

Rey scoffed again. “You think granny would snitch? If anybody would use this information against you, it’s me.”

“You wouldn’t have the heart,” Ren spat the same time as Hux said, “No one would believe you.”

Well. They didn’t discuss this question; but maybe having different motivations lended them more credibility. Hux blinked at Ren, signalling _help._

Ren crossed the floor to him, and after a moment of hesitation put a hand on the back of the armchair. It was oddly comforting. Hux squirmed closer, arching his neck and begging for a reassuring touch, eye-witnesses be damned. Ren indulged him and caressed his nape.  “Granny would betray us,” he said, almost dreamy, lost in Hux’s gaze.

“You can’t think that,” Rey retorted. “Bullshit.”

Ren kept stroking Hux’s neck as if he was a beloved pet, an emotional support animal he was refusing to give up. “She’d tell mum,” he said.

“So what?”

“I don’t want mum to know. I don’t want to talk. She’d be all over my personal life again. I don’t want that. I chose my own family.”

“Too bad,” Rey said, sitting up taller. She looked them over, and nodded to herself, confident. “Here’s my end of the deal: _if_ I help, you _will_ talk to her. You will stop sulking and show up for Hanukkah, and you’ll be part of our family again, Ben.”

Ren’s grip tightened in Hux’s hair. “All that just for your fucking help?” he grumbled.

“What a wonderful offer,” Hux chimed in, elbowing Ren swiftly, making sure that Rey saw it. He wasn’t certain he could play the friendly neighbourhood twink for much longer, but the meeting was close to an end now—soon, he could drop the façade.

“I’ll think about it,” Ren mumbled.

“Great,” Rey said, and sank back into the cushions of the couch, making herself comfortable.

 _No,_ Hux thought. _You cannot fucking_ wait it out, _some of us need their prostate dicked posthaste._

“We’ll be in touch then,” he said pleasantly, getting to his feet. He rubbed his hands and took a few steps, halting as he noticed Rey’s shit-eating grin. It was too much like her cousin’s.

“Oh, I’m not leaving.”

“We’re getting you a nice hotel,” Ren promised. It didn’t escape Hux’s notice that he’d stepped behind the armchair, seeking shelter.

“Yeah, that’s what you said last time. Worked out wonderfully.”

Panic was gripping at Hux’s throat; he swallowed down a blurt of nausea.

“I can assure you—” he started.

“No, you can’t,” Rey interrupted him. She was now spreading out on the couch, booted feet over the armrest, laced fingers behind her neck. “That’s why I’m staying over. I’ll keep an eye on you two until I figure out your bullshit. In the meanwhile, we can proceed with the plan. Babysteps. But this is my final offer.”

Ren and Hux just stood there, dumbfounded.

They’d been fucking obliterated, and they never even saw it coming.

* * *

 _This is bad_ , Hux thought as he stood under the spray of the walk-in shower. A warm drizzle was pouring over him, reminding him of a summer storm; the low glow of the chandelier made the drops look like melted gold. He didn’t care for it. He couldn’t enjoy the luxuries of Ren’s bathroom without Ren here with him, preferably on his knees. But Ren was in the living room, doing some sibling bonding with Rey, which consisted of sitting on the opposite ends of the couch, watching telly and not talking.

Damn that girl to hell. Hux tried to run over the points of the actual plan to soothe his nerves, but he kept returning to the same thought: he hadn’t just come to New York to see the plan through, he’d come to see his boyfriend—he’d brought his sex-swing, for fuck’s sake. They wanted to make the most of his stay. It would be a long one—six days—and they wanted to have continuous make-up sex on every available surface.

With Rey supervising them, there was little to no chance of fulfilling any of their half-whispered fantasies, the mistyped sexting, the highly suggestive row of emojis. Even a proper cuddle seemed hopeless. Hux thought about Ren’s warm chest, crestfallen. It was December. Snuggle-weather. The thought of burying his face between Ren’s pecs had kept him alive these past four weeks. Now it had been taken from him.

He stepped out of the shower, leaving a miserable trail of water as he headed to fetch his towel from the marble counter. He passed the tub; oh, happy memories. There were candles around the brim, and fresh bouquets of tea roses on the ground; Ren, too, must’ve been expecting a different outcome to this day. Hux’s heart sank as he spotted a basketful of bath bombs, all of them pink and glittery. Why couldn’t they have nice things? Was this because they were corrupt oil tycoons?

After the bare minimum of a skin-care routine (it didn’t matter _anyway_ ) and some moderate sobbing over a massage bar with gold flakes, he brushed his teeth, did his hair, said goodbye to his contact lenses, and put on a marabou trim dressing gown, the least risqué pair he’d brought, but admittedly, the most dramatic.

He sauntered into the living room, the long trail floating behind him. Nobody deserved to see him like this but Ren. Everything he had was for his eyes only. He stopped short behind the couch as if it could protect his modesty, and announced, “I’m heading to bed.”

He expected that Rey would have them leave the door open. The way Ren looked at him, neck twisted, jaw dropped, he decided they wouldn’t. He stretched a little; Rey did the same, but with no grace, groaning as she did it, joints popping.

“Great idea. Coming.”

“What do you mean,” Hux asked flatly.

“You can’t share a bedroom, obviously, so I’m sleeping with you,” Rey said, climbing over the backrest. Hux wanted to remind her that there were easier ways to get up from a couch, but Ren spoke first.

“So what, you’re jumping in bed with my boyfriend?”

“It’s okay, he’s gay. Look at him.”

“That not what I meant, and his preference has nothing to do whether he’s okay with cuddling a virtual stranger!”

“Miss Skywalker, listen,” Hux said, pulling the gown tighter around himself, “we promise we’ll be very quiet and well-behaved, and leave the door open. You’d hear if we whispered evil master plans to each other.”

“Not if I’m sleeping,” Rey said, giving a confused glance at the glamorous trail of Hux’s gown. She shook her head, sobering herself. “I don’t trust you, and I have my reasons. Until I’m confident it’s not just another one of Ben’s stunts, I won’t have you alone in a room with him.”

“I haven’t seen him in a month,” Hux blurted out. He hated how vulnerable he sounded, how exposed he felt; but maybe it’d earn him some pity.

Rey just walked past him, headed to the bedroom. “Boo-hoo, his parents haven’t seen him in years, and it’s thanks to your corporation.”

“We told you we want to start fresh—” Ren raised his voice.

Rey interrupted on the same volume, “Yeah, that’s what you told me.”  

There was a tense pause. Hux realised they were rendered powerless. They’d have to make sacrifices for a bigger plan—so no waking up together, no breakfast in bed, slow and languid sex and then a quickie over the kitchen counter. But he needed Ren inside him, above him, with him—he was just arm’s length away, and knowing he couldn’t just reach out and touch him however he pleased made him sick. So he did it: he cupped Ren’s chin as if they were alone, made him look at him, his thumb caressing his lips.

“What do you say, Ren?” he asked, voice thick like velvet. “Can you spend one more night without me? Just this one, and then we’ll see how we shall proceed.”

He hated to be the voice of reason. He hated to play along. Ren leant into his touch, and looked over at Rey standing by the bedroom door. “We could just tell her to fuck off,” he said. “Leave us alone.”

Rey nodded, as if she was expecting to hear just that—to be proven right that Ren had all the wrong intentions and wouldn’t keep his word. She was gripping her elbow, head hanging low. A defenseless position. Ren must have noticed it, too, how easy it was to exploit. He grunted as Hux said “just one night,” vaguely affirmative. Let his eyes fall shut as Hux kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, his mouth.

“You’ll have to give me something to sleep in,” Hux whispered against his lips. “I don’t have anything decent.”

“Mm, what do you have?”

“You’ll see. I promise.”

Rey interrupted, “I could use a clean shirt as well.” She was watching them with offended scrutiny, probably thinking that their intimacy was a trap—that they expected her to look away, and exchange secret signals or hushed plans. Paranoia apparently ran in the family.

Hux stroked Ren’s ears in parting, then pulled back, and offered his hands. He helped Ren up from the couch, who climbed over the backrest just like Rey, but he ended up in Hux’s arms, and they stumbled backwards, nearly collapsing.

“Careful!” Hux cried as Ren put too much of his weight on him, trusting him vainly to support him. Hux almost slipped, so Ren got hold of him just as Hux reached for him, and they ended up dangerously out of balance, trying to find their footing and stepping on each other in the process. Hux thought they must’ve looked like drunken ice skaters, and started laughing at their clumsy attempts, surprised and breathless. _She can’t take everything away_ , he thought with a bolt of violent joy, gripping Ren’s suit. _Let her try, she can’t keep us apart. Nothing can._

“There,” Ren said, managing to pull him upright. They didn’t let go of each other; they made their way to the closet in the close embrace of a mock-tango, leaving Rey trailing behind. If only she weren’t here—they could put on music, let their bodies sing. Hux got a soft Harvard tee; it was clean, but still smelt like Ren. Rey had to do with a polo shirt that didn’t look very comfortable. She waited for Ren to leave before she changed; she had to wait out quite a number of goodnight kisses. The door closed behind Ren, and they were alone in the semi-dark bedroom.

“Turn around,” Rey said. Hux faced the basalt wall, obedient, and started his own dressing process. Reality started to set in; it was as if Ren had taken all the joy with him. The touch of cotton on Hux’s naked skin felt like the most exquisite silk, because it belonged to Ren, but it only reminded him of his momentary loneliness—that Ren wouldn’t sneak his hand under this shirt to squeeze his belly, that he wouldn’t be sliding it up to expose his bulge, and the lace knickers Hux had on were not to be seen by anybody. Not anybody important, anyway.

At least Rey didn’t seem to mind that his ass was covered with roses and butterflies. The polo shirt was huge on her, a proper nightgown, while Hux’s modesty was barely present. He was glad she didn’t make a huge deal out of it, but he still felt weird. He’d never had sleepovers as a kid. He didn’t know how to do it.

Rey grabbed the grey-black zigzag duvet, then frowned to herself, and peered up at Hux.

“You didn’t...did you?” she asked, tone very pointed.

“I didn’t what?”

“Fuck my cousin in this recently.”

“Ah,” Hux said. “You think I’m the one doing the fucking. That’s precious.”

“ _Don’t_ enlighten me. Is this clean?”

“It’s fresh, yes. We haven’t had the chance.”

Rey looked immensely relieved and climbed into bed, kicking off the duvet carelessly and elbowing the throw pillows aside to find the real deal. A glint caught Hux’s eyes. A length of silk rope.

“Let me help,” he murmured, and managed to rescue a box of ribbed condoms, a glass plug, and a pair of fluffy handcuffs without any major incident. Once they were quite settled and the compromising objects were secured in the nightstand drawer, something occurred to Hux. “Won’t you uh. Shower. I promise we won’t have a secret conference while you’re in there.”

“I’ll shower in the morning,” Rey mumbled. She was lying with her back to him, curled up contently. Her hair was still in a bun. Hux hadn’t even seen her remove the glitter.

“As we just established, the beddings are freshly cleaned,” he said. “It’d be—”

“I’ll shower in the morning,” Rey repeated, more assertive.  Hux didn’t know how so much self-righteous resolve could fit into such a tiny person.

“All right, geez,” he mumbled, and turned off the antique night lamp. Stared into the blueish darkness.

And waited.

And waited.

Within twenty minutes, he could safely establish that the soft noises of Ren moving around in his penthouse would driving him crazy. He wanted to be there with him: comfort him as he paced in a fury, watch telly together, open the fridge, have a drink. Then he heard him head to the bathroom, and he couldn’t take it any longer. He didn’t want to think of Ren facing the same sullen loneliness he met in the shower.

“What was he like as a child?” he asked the darkness to take his mind off the soft rustle of clothes pooling on the marble floor. The bathroom was right next door.

“Huh?”

“Kylo. What was he like.”

“Are you seriously—” Rey mumbled, then a yawn followed.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Try harder.”

“That’s a rather curt thing to say.”

“I’m not here to make friends.”

“Why are you here?”

There was a beat.

“Because he was sweet,” Rey said.

Hux couldn’t help beaming at that. What had he become, swooning at the mere thought, the _vague concept_ of his boyfriend—but to have him, to call him that, it was worth giving up the last bit of his dignity. Rey couldn’t see him smiling anyway.

“He _is_ sweet,” Hux said as if he was giving away classified information. “He can be so kind and generous, and—” _He makes me feel like we’re the centre of the universe. Like there’s nothing and nobody but us, with a love strong enough to bend gravity and halt the planets_. He couldn’t say any of that. “Yeah,” he finished lamely.

“I used the past tense,” Rey mumbled, drained. There was some rustling; Hux assumed she was turning to face him in the darkness, but he didn’t check, content with staring at the ceiling and listening to the water splash. So Ren was having a bath. Nice. “Has he ever told you about my twelfth birthday?”

“Nah,” Hux muttered, wondering if Ren would use any of the bath bombs. He wanted him to. He wanted him to not let this night go to ruin, and enjoy himself just a bit, allow himself to have fun even as fate conspired against him.

“On my twelfth birthday,” Rey said, “he got upset with me. I can’t remember what I did. Wasn’t paying enough attention to him, probably, or he didn’t like my friends. Something happened. He pulled me aside, and asked me, ‘do you ever wonder why your parents never visit you on your birthday? You real parents,’ he said. ‘Do you wonder why they don’t care?’”

“You were kids,” Hux said dismissively.

“Do the math. He was twenty-two. He was twenty-two years old and he told me my parents sold me for drinking money. That Luke was a social worker on site when UNICEF busted Jakku, and he saw all the kids sold to human traffickers and he found me and he thought I looked like granny, that I looked like someone he _recognised_ , and it broke his heart and he ended up adopting me.”

Hux frowned. That sounded— “Did you believe him?”

“That’s not the point. I was crying and begging Ben not to be like this and he made me say it. Made me say out loud that my parents hated my guts and that I wasn’t worthy to be called a Skywalker, because I don’t have the blood.”

Hux didn’t know what he was expected to say to that. He settled on, “I’m sorry he was mean to you.”

“So you see,” she said, almost spitting the words, “I’m a tad _suspicious_ of your plan of a happily-ever-after, because locking me up in a hotel is not even the _worst_ of what he ever did to me, and how he hurt me is shit compared to what he’s done to my dad or his mum. She’s still begging me to talk some sense into him, because she and granny think we can get him on the right track, and even though Han knows better he still—he’s not giving up on him either, and look at me. Look at me here,” she punched the pillow. “Waiting for the penny to drop,” she punched it again. “Waiting for the—final fucking disappointment—that will make me—stop giving a shit—about this dickhead—just because we’re sorta related—even though he told me—it—doesn’t—matter—to—him—!” She collapsed on her elbows, and screamed into the abused pillow, screamed out all the frustration that must’ve been building in her since forever.

Hux blinked at the ceiling, breathing very, very evenly.

Well.

There was no way Rey was not a full-blooded, hot-headed Skywalker.

Sure. Luke had a preference for men. That was old tabloid news. But she had to be a test tube baby at least.

There was a knock on the wall. “Hey,” Kylo called, “did Rey get possessed or what?”

“She’s a bit upset with you,” Hux explained while Rey screamed, “Shut up Ben!”

“Um,” Ren said. “Go off having a fun sleepover, I guess. Armitage, alert me if she goes full Exorcist on you and starts to puke.”

“Shut up!” Rey yelled again, and pulled the duvet over her head.

Hux didn’t know how to tell her that in his humble opinion she was just, well, being a teenager, raging at the faintest whiff of hurt or injustice. That even though what she said was news to him, he didn’t mind that Ren had never told him, because—how to put it—he couldn’t give less of a crap about the rest of his family, especially the ones routinely deadnaming him. The splashing resumed; Ren was over the screaming match as well. Rey was alone in the cocoon of her anger, and Hux saw no reason why he should comfort her.

 ***

Morning found a very exhausted Hux nursing a coffee—a flat white, of all things. He didn’t have time for proper breakfast; it was crucial that they arrived at First Order Tower separately. He took a long drag of his cigarette, staring down at the car park numbly from a balcony. It was freezing, and even with his greatcoat around his shoulders, his teeth chattered. He knew what would warm him up—or who, more precisely.

9:15. He spotted Ren’s Phantom headed for the underground garage. That was the signal. He let smoke drift from his lips, dropped the filter into the paper cup, and made his casual way to the lift where he would just _happen_ to stumble upon Rey and Ren.

He had the urge to claw at his palm as he waited, but fought the temptation. He had to look calm, for now. Snoke wanted him in the US in the wake of the security breach. He reminded himself that this time, there was nothing fishy about him being here. Nothing fishy about bumping into his co-CEO either.

The steel doors opened.

Fucking hell. Ren looked delicious. There was no way he could resist licking him. The charcoal herringbone suit was an excellent choice, perfectly paired with his topcoat, a cashmere scarf loose around his throat and Hux's keepsake tiepin glinting under the neons. Hux all but leapt into the lift, tipping over poor Rey.

“Shit, didn’t see you, sorry, I’m afraid you’re rather small—ah, but you clean up nice.”

Rey had her hair in a professional ponytail, her makeup _made sense_ , and she was wearing a Mugler suit with Louboutins. She looked murderous.

“Didn’t ask your opinion,” she gritted, and snatched his coffee. Hux let her take a big swig and watched her face twist when she tasted the cigarette ash.

“You didn’t ask, Armitage, but you look stunning,” Ren said, briefly squeezing Hux’s ass.

“You’re supposed to hate each other today,” Rey reminded them, handing the cup back to Hux with a glance that said that he’d won the battle, but the war wasn’t over.

“We argue, I go to Snoke for my appointment, you follow,” Hux summed up, “you crash the meeting, and I pretend to loathe all your ideas. Re-grouping in Ren’s office under pretense that I have one more thing to scream at him.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “Everybody remembers that much, Mr. Hux.”

“Could you stop being a dick to him for a _second_?” Ren raised his voice.

“I’m just practicing my role,” Rey snapped back.  

The lift drew to a halt; they got out, and Ren whispered as they made their way through the gleaming hallway, “I thought you were best friends now, you told him your little sob-story—”

“Don’t you dare—” Rey hissed.

“Hey,” Hux shushed them. Ren turned his attention to him, and unleashed his fury.

“I’ll see Snoke whenever I fucking _want to_ ,” he yelled. “I work here!”

“Well, I have an appointment!” Hux shouted back.

“Shove it up your ass!”

“I won’t tolerate your vulgarity, Mr. Ren!”

“I don’t give a shit what you tolerate!”

The employees who were in the radius of their argument quickly scuttered away; Hux saw someone exiting an office, noticing how they were screaming at each other, and making a swift U-turn. Their bad blood was really infamous. They caused as much ruckus as they could until they reached Snoke’s door. The scandal would be the alibi supporting their little charade. There was a little problem. Hux was getting hard, and Ren’s flush face and fat pupils indicated he was in a similar state. Hux had to dramatically shrug off his coat and cover himself so that no one could tell that the argument wasn’t only fake, but a definite turn-on.

He loved how unhinged and dangerous Ren looked. He loved him pushy and demanding. He felt sorry for his family still grieving the boy he used to be; they were missing out on the amazing man he had become.

“Piss off, fucknugget!” he yelled.

“It’s urgent!” Ren screamed while as Hux knocked. They were let into the foyer by a bodyguard; Snoke was sorely lacking a secretary—that had been the first step of their plan. Unamo had been easy to pay off.

The guard tried to persuade Ren to wait. They knew he would fail; but it gave Hux just enough time to storm in first, visibly seething. He was momentarily blinded by the shiny red walls of Snoke’s office, as obnoxious as it was tacky. The man had no taste whatsoever.

“Mr. Hux,” Snoke purred, making a dramatic turn with his leather chair. Case in point: it had gold details. “How good of you to turn up.”

Hux let the implied insult slide. “Good morning, sir,” he said, winded, and glanced over his shoulder.

“Did I overhear a little altercation?” Snoke asked, and indicated him to sit. There were a number of chairs to choose from, all in different shapes and sizes, as if it was some sick test, like Hux’s choice of a cherry-red leather ottoman betrayed something of his personality: a weakness.

“It’s nothing,” he said, fumbling for his tablet.

Snoke hummed, unconvinced. He put his long, pale fingers together, so they formed a triangle. If Ren were in the room, he’d have made an illuminati joke: just narrow his eyes with a half-smile and Hux would know what was implied. 

“I thought I heard young Kylo’s voice.”

“He’s—” Hux began, then waved it away, and powered on his tablet. “He can wait his turn.”

It was the perfect thing to say—Snoke clenched his jaw, and his brows furrowed. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He pressed a button on his desk, and rasped into the receiver, “Mr. Praetor, would you please send Mr. Ren in.”

“Mr. Snoke,” Hux said, agitated, “I’m here to discuss SKB, which, as you will agree, is sensitive—”

“It’ll just take a minute,” Snoke silenced him.

Hux made sure that his knuckles whitened as he gripped the tablet, and that he didn’t turn around when Ren entered, as if he couldn’t even bear the sight of him. He swallowed dryly and blinked at the low ceiling, making a pretence of composing himself. He was just trying to resist the trigger-happy instinct to smile at Ren stupidly or bat his lashes in a way that would betray them. He used a different voice when he spoke to Ren, he was visibly more relaxed, he was not himself, or quite the opposite, really, and it would give them away—

“Well, well, this is a surprise,” Snoke said.

Hux heard Rey mutter a “good morning” as Ren guided her forward, his hand on the small of her back.

“I wanted to introduce Rey Skywalker,” he began in an oddly ceremonial tone.

Hux turned to him sharply, and snapped, “And it couldn’t _wait_.”

He wasn’t looking at his face. He was ogling his neck. Fuck. The long pale arch of it. The larynx begging to be bitten.

“Armitage,” Snoke said on a warning tone, and then added, “It won’t take long.”

Hux snapped out of his thirsting, cleared his throat, and murmured an apology. He was a bit worried Snoke kept saying that the meeting would be over fast—they needed time to convince him. Apart from that, he could tell that they were on the right track: Snoke was interested in Rey, it was evident; but he wouldn’t hear Ren out if he asked for a _favour_. Snoke loved to show off his power: he had to think he was teaching Hux a lesson.

“Oh no, we won’t hold you up,” Ren said in a rush, intonation more uneven than usual. He pushed at Rey again, as if she was a petulant child forced to great her shady uncle. She went willingly enough, but kept her head down, glaring at Snoke with a defiant gaze. “I was just wondering if you could possibly consider a quick interview.”

“Are you looking for a job, Miss Skywalker? Please be seated.”

Ren collapsed on an antique chair, but Rey remained standing, staring at Snoke still. Hux hoped Snoke wouldn’t find it too provoking. He felt Ren glancing at him, but didn’t dare to return his look.

“I heard you were in need of a secretary, sir,” Rey said.

“And?” Snoke pressed.

“And I’m interested.”

“She’s fresh out of high school,” Ren chimed in, “but although she lacks the experience, she is highly skilled. Speaks five languages, including Spanish and Japanese, has a MOS certification, can do bookkeeping—in fact, she was a bronze medalist in the 2016 International Mathematics Olympiad, which—”

“What are you doing?” Hux interrupted. “I’m having a _meeting,_ you cannot just barge in to promote—”

“Mind your own fucking business,” Ren barked. Hux shivered; he sounded so _dismissive_ , it was endlessly arousing.

Making sure that the angle of his tablet preserved his dignity, Hux said, “It doesn’t matter if she’s a prodigy, she’s far too young for this position. Besides, she’s your family. I won’t stand for nepotism—”

“You have a problem with nepotism, Mr. Hux?” Snoke asked calmly. He was leaning back in his chair. He was watching them fight as if they were mad dogs pitted against each other. He was _entertained_. That was what mattered.

“Sir,” Hux said, “with respect, when you hired _me_ I had a master’s degree, a full internship, _and_ experience as a consultant, not just some blubbering recommendation that—”

“I wouldn’t have employed any of you,” Snoke interrupted, “if it wasn’t for the reputation of your families.” He looked at Rey, still standing defiantly. “It’s my belief,” he explained, “that the elite should be running the world.”

Hux hoped Rey wouldn’t throw up in her mouth.  He tuned the rest of the monologue out; his role was now offended silence, a defeat that’d be made complete only if Snoke welcomed Rey to his team. With that, they’d have access to his schedule, and could do a fair bit of spying and casual eavesdropping. They needed to know which members of the board he had in his pockets—and who would betray him for a cornchip.

Hux kept his eyes on the blank screen of his tablet, running calculations in his head. He managed not to flinch when Snoke jokingly asked if Rey was adept at making coffee. Ren laughed at it, and at every other the subsequent horrible quip. They had a strange dynamic. Snoke had Kylo on a leash: he was eager to please, even now—he would’ve suffered Snoke’s abuse in silence forever, told himself he owed him loyalty, if Snoke hadn’t made a tiny mistake. That was keeping them apart. You don’t lock away your dog’s favourite treat; not after you let them have a taste.

Months ago, Ren lit Hux’s cigarette on a balcony. A spark, then the flame. Neither of them knew then, but in that moment, Snoke was already doomed.

“It’s settled, then,” Snoke said. Ren beamed at him, held out his hand to shake on it; Snoke graced him with the gesture, and didn’t comment on the dirty look he gave to Hux. Rey made a beeline for the door after a half-mumbled goodbye; Snoke made her stop.

“Just one more thing, Miss Skywalker, before you head to HR.”

“Yes?” Rey’s smile was too wide, too bright. Snoke tilted his head to the side as he let go of Ren’s hand.

“How come an environmental activist such as yourself is suddenly devoted to the First Order?” he asked. “I think I remember you dumping gasoline on my coat before security got to you. You were covered in coal, but I recognised you.”

Rey’s smile faltered. Hux said his silent prayers to any god available, and Ren stood motionless.

“You must know about my dad. That he was an activist himself.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well,” Rey said, “he gave his life to the Rebellion. And now we can’t afford college.”

A slow smile crept to Snoke’s thin lips. “Clever girl,” he whispered. “Welcome to the real world.”

***

Hux wasn’t going to run. It’d be unbecoming of him. He was merely power-walking. He power-walked himself to Ren’s office, and took a moment to catch his breath and rub his side. Slip let him in with a nervous smile, which reminded Hux of his role.

“I’ve got something to tell you, Mr. Ren,” he yelled; as the door shut behind him, he said, “you were remarkable back there.”

“I’m patiently waiting for my Oscar,” Ren replied. He was sitting on his desk, all long limbs and confidence. When he looked at Hux it was like he couldn’t see anything else. Hux felt similarly, so it took him a moment to realise that Rey was there with a manila folder.

“Congratulations to you as well,” Hux said a bit lamely.

“Thanks,” Rey said with a proud grin. That was a pleasant surprise. Hux made his way to Ren through the lush jungle of his office—he couldn’t help it, it was like he was being pulled in by gravity.

“Will you start right away?” he asked, addressing Rey but unable to tear his gaze from Ren.

“Nah, tomorrow.”

“Good, that’s good. That’s to be expected.”

Ren casually spread his legs for him, and he came to a halt between them, taking hold of the desk’s edge. The position wasn’t strictly indecent.

“I got you some bagels,” Ren said in an unnecessarily intimate whisper. Hux salviated; they were close enough that he could feel his breath on his skin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you left without breakfast, dumbface, what were you thinking—”

There was the rustle of a paper bag, but Ren didn’t look away as he grabbed it and handed it to him. Vanilla and walnut, judging by the savory smell; how could Ren always guess what he craved?

“You shouldn’t be seen with it,” Rey chimed in. “If you leave your office with food—”

“Maybe Ren could throw them at me when I leave,” Hux suggested. Ren chuckled, and tore off a piece of the warm, soft dough. He brought it to Hux’s lips.

“Lemme just—yeah. Take better care of yourself, peach. Please.”

Hux chewed like a good boy. He heard the click of heels, and from the corner of his eyes he saw Rey place the folder on the desk. He didn’t know why he was keeping eye-contact with Ren while eating, but it seemed important. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t do that to him. Maybe he was going a bit crazy with the need to be alone with him.

“—so I’m going home,” Rey said. She might’ve said something else as well, but Hux didn’t catch it.

“You’re going home?” Ren asked brightly.

“To your place.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry. I’m still not convinced you’re not full of shit.” She looked them over. “This, for example, looks a bit over the top. I’m not entirely sure you’re actually dating.”   

“What do you mean over the mpf,” Hux asked as Ren fed him another piece of bagel. He might’ve licked at his fingers a little.

“What would we gain from pretending to be in a relationship?” Ren added.

Rey shrugged, unfazed. “You tell me. If movies have taught me anything, you are secretly in love and will confess it accidentally after wallowing in misery over whether a fake kiss felt too real.”

Hux laughed, shocked that Rey made a joke. Sort of. And that she apparently liked rom-coms. She smiled at him, briefly, but she _did_. The ice was breaking. She held out her hand, and moved her fingers; Hux noticed that her nails were bitten.

“Keys,” she said. “And I’m taking the Phantom.”

Ren made a noise of complaint, but he was already searching his pockets.

“Not a scratch.”

“Shut it, I’m the best driver in the family.”

“You fucking wish.” Ren handed her the keys, and in a grumble, added, “Your J-turn is okay.”

“I know,” Rey beamed, and squeezed his hand. They both seemed surprised by the gesture; then Ren sighed, and reached out to ruffle her hair.

“Have fun, you can eat anything you find in the fridge.”

“A bold offer.” She turned to Hux, eyebrow arched. “Ready?”

“For ugh—?”

“You’re leaving Ben’s office with me,” she said. “Sullen silence, all that. I’ll put the bagels somewhere you can find them.”

“I can’t believe we’re making a drop-off with _bagels_ ,” Hux mumbled, pulling away from Ren, who whined low in his throat.

“Such is the life of conspirators. Come along, chop-chop.” She even snapped her fingers, but it was relatively good-humoured. Hux didn’t expect her to leave them alone, and even if she did, both of them had urgent matters—he was already late for a briefing, and Ren had a conference call scheduled. They parted with the briefest kiss (no tongue, but a hint of teeth) and Hux trailed behind Rey, seething a bit.

During the course of the day, it occurred to him more than once that he could just drop by Ren’s office again at a more convenient and less suspicious time, and no one could stop him. Still: it was a dangerous gamble. Rey’s remark that they were a bit over the top made him paranoid. What if they had overdone the screaming match? What if the meetup in Ren’s office had already been too much, and put them on the spot? He didn’t even dare to text him, or wait for him at the end of his shift—he just hailed a taxi and headed home, hoping that Rey would be in a more forgiving mood.

***  


Hux was out of luck. Sure, the plan had worked. Snoke hadn’t wasted any time overtaxing Rey, which meant she had access to pretty much everything. However, she was cautious with the intel she’s gotten, and only told them what she deemed absolutely necessary. Four days of this whole mess, and Rey still refused to report on the status of Vodran International, Attera Gas, and Pressy Tumble Mines—key players without whom overturning Snoke was near impossible.

Hux was kept busy as well: rushed from meeting to meeting, mostly with tech giants from Silicon Valley who were _incapable_ of explaining the simplest issues in less than forty minutes, and insisted on using slideshows even in one-on-ones. Sometimes he caught sight of Ren, dashing down a hallway, trailed by a group of VIPs. Their eyes would meet across a conference room, or they pressed into the same lift; it was a special kind of torture not to even smile at each other. Hux thought of simpler times when Ren would just bend him over a table and finger him a little.

There was an— _attempt_ during a shared meeting on hacktivism, where they were seated next to each other, and the room was darkened and everybody was nodding off. Ren pretended to be bemusedly engrossed in the speaker’s soliloquy while he placed a hand on Hux’s inner thigh, squeezing lightly. Hux thought he would pass out. One touch, and he had to bite down a throaty moan as he trembled under the warm weight of Ren’s hand. He felt like he would come in his trousers if Ren so much as moved his fingers an inch. He got hold of his wrist and made him pull away, heart breaking.

And now: it was Thursday evening, the wintry city gleaming, adventure calling, and he and Ren were sitting on the couch, bent together but quite miserable. They were supposed to be in Betony at a ten-course tasting, then go to the Dark Universe Space Show at the Hayden Planetarium, and crown the evening with some romantic ice-skating at Wollman Rink; instead they were looking at photos of Millicent, graciously sent by her brand-new cat-sitter Thanisson, and Rey was making banana bread.

“I should’ve brought her along,” Hux said, caressing the screen.

“We planned on being busy,” Ren muttered darkly. They cast an accusing glance at Rey, who didn’t mind them; she was putting the bread on a wire track, a huge grin on her face, eyes a bit manic—the mere thought of food was enough to get her a bit hyper. Hux scowled, then his gaze found his bunny costume print hanging on the fridge. What had they become? What happened to the _fun_? One more day, and if all the stars aligned, they’d be finally free to do whatever the fuck they pleased, but he was starting to think he wouldn’t be able to wait any longer.

“Maybe I changed my mind,” he remarked. “Maybe I don’t want kids. Maybe I want three-hundred cats instead.”

He locked the screen and let the phone drop to his lap. He was wearing the marabou feather gown again, still his only decent-ish pair, and felt like a neglected housewife from a fifties movie. All the glamour and no gain.

“It’s all about planning,” Ren said.

“Please don’t even _plan_ to be parents,” Rey called from the kitchen. “You’d be terrible. So much drama and whining, yikes.”

“Fuck off, I raised you,” Ren said without heat.

Rey pointed a spatula at him. “Proves my point. And you just like, helped in, so I’m only 25% messed up, but still. Shoot, I forgot the icing sugar.”

“You can say shit, I’m a cool parent.”

“You absolutely cannot say shit,” Hux said. “We’re doing a cool dad-strict dad thing.”

“You’re my favourite,” Rey said as she went to grab her leather jacket.

“I’m her favourite,” Hux told Ren.

“Only because Ben sets the bar pretty low.”

 “You set the bar pretty low, Kylo.”

Ren rolled his eyes, grinning. He squeezed Hux’s shoulder, who pressed closer, keeping his eyes on their not-quite-daughter who was finally fucking leaving the flat.

“Wear a beanie,” he said. “It’s freezing.”

“I’m good, I’ll just be a minute—that’s a warning.” She put on her combat boots and a scarf, and she was gone.

The door hardly closed, Hux and Kylo were on each other. Hux didn’t think about it; he just had to have as much of _Ren_ as he could get, as quickly as possible. He knew it’d be more effective to go straight for his cock, but found himself grabbing his ears instead, pulling him into a bruising kiss, all sloppy want and slick saliva. Ren mounted him, eager and desperate.

“Armitage, fuck, baby,” he kept babbling as he tore his gown open, revealing the sleep shirt. “You’ve been killing me, baby you’ve been killing me, this fucking gown, you look luxurious, you look like a million bucks, I wanna—”

“Fuck—”

“—eat you out, make you come from my tongue, what are you doing on the _couch_ , you should be in a queen bed in Tuscany, you look like it, we should be tipsy of Chianti that I should lick it off your chest, then lick you open again, lick you open for my cock—”

“You have—some detailed daydreams there—”

“I had the _time_ ,” Ren growled. His hands were everywhere, rolling up the tee, tugging at panties, clutching, stroking, sliding, gripping. Hux clawed at his back, trying to wrestle his shirt and jacket off him, but he also had to kiss him, and had to keep talking.

“Need you need you need you—”

“I’m here, baby, baby, I’m here—”

“Your cock,” Hux said, almost a sob. “Are you hard for me, are you—”

Ren grinded down, rubbing his erection to Hux’s own. There was lace and cotton between them, and Hux mewled—this was unbearable, this was—

“I swear to god I’ve had a hard-on since your fucking plane landed,” Ren panted. “I wanted you so bad, it fucking hurts, been aching, I had to—I just got angry when I tried to rub one off, I was just mad it wasn’t you—”

“Oh, you too?” Hux said, unbuckling Ren’s belt. His hands were trembling.

“Sneaked into the men’s room—It’s crazy, it’s crazy we—”

“Shh, it’s okay, put it in me, just—”

“Lube—”

“Use your spit, I don’t fucking care—”

“Don’t wanna hurt you, never wanna—Armitage, fuck—”

Hux started laughing, choked-off, weepy. They were here, they were doing this; they had maybe five or ten minutes, but he was going to get everything he wanted, half-crazed with something like greed. He got two handfuls of Ren’s pecs, grabbing them so forcefully as if he was going to tear a chunk out of Ren, and for a moment, he wanted that—he wanted them to rip each other to pieces, make it a fucking massacre, make it honest, blood and flesh and hunger.

Ren was rubbing his cock against his arse, slacks still hanging around his hips, the zipper digging into Hux’s thigh. He was humping him like a beast, erratic, insane; the dry friction made Hux’s skin burn. He wanted to be incinerated. Wanted to turn to ashes.

He sobbed again as he felt the tip of Ren’s cock nudging at his entrance. If only he could tear himself open, have Ren rut inside him as deep as possible. He cried out as the head breached him, the girth just—too fucking much, and—

The door opened.

“Ugh, you were right about the beanie, it’s below freezing!”

Ren stilled. Hux clung onto him, trying to regulate his breaths, but wet little gasps just kept hiccuping up from his chest.

“Guys, I swear to god—”

He held onto Ren’s back. Nothing could make him let go. They were pressed together tightly, Ren still had his fucking trousers, there was nothing to cover up, he was not going to cover up—He felt the gown sliding further down his bare arms, but he didn’t move to adjust it. Maybe if he didn’t move, they were not going to be seen.

“Jesus Christ! Are you seriously—Put something on!”

“Sorry,” Ren said, voice muffled. His lips were pressed to Hux’s neck, and he wasn’t going to pull back. “I know, right in front of your banana bread.”

Rey was in no mood to joke. Hux heard her trot away, slamming something and yelling, “It’s so rude, I’ve had it with you, I’ve fucking had it with you—” There was another slam, louder. The door. She’d left the house.

A strange lull was left behind her. They didn’t move, didn’t speak; it was like a tornado had passed and they were squinting at the clear skies in the wake of an inevitable catastrophe.

“That was awkward,” Ren said.

“We should’ve—”

“Yeah.”

Ren rolled his hips, experimentally. Hux winced. Ren pulled out—he wasn’t even an inch in.

“We need to be more ugh. Clever about it.”

“She will be back, won’t she?” Hux said, getting up on his elbows to peer around. The couch’s backrest obscured most of his vision, but he could see the banana bread on the counter, and a pack of icing sugar.

“She wouldn’t leave the food,” Ren said with a seriousness that made Hux chuckle; it sounded weak and hopeless. He adjusted the gown, suddenly self-conscious.

“Listen, it’s just—one more day, and—”

“But you’re going back to London.”

“I have to, but after that, nobody can come between us, not even distance, not ever—”

“I can’t,” Ren said, defeated. He sat back on his heels, tucking himself away. It broke Hux to see it. He shouldn’t be denied this. He deserved it, they both did. “I need it, Armitage, I’m not just saying—I’m going insane, I’m—To see you all the time and not be able to—”

“I know, love.”

“I need you so much, it’s downright fucking pathological.” Ren rubbed his face, irritated, then pushed back his hair from his forehead. His chest was heaving and glistening with sweat. “Tell you what.”

“What?”

“We just close the bedroom door,” he said.

Hux swallowed around a lump in his throat. Fuck, he wanted this as well. Wanted his boyfriend. What was wrong with that?

“We’ll be real quiet,” Ren went on. “I don’t care. She can come back. She can sleep on the couch. I won’t give her shit for what she did, but we’re playing by my rules from now on. That’s it. I’m—”

“She could turn on us,” Hux said. “We risk too much.”

Ren nodded, mouth moving wordlessly. Hux touched his face, and asked, gentle, “What did I tell you about risks? After our first goodbye.”

“ _I should’ve taken a risk with you,’_ ” Ren quoted, cautiously hopeful. His pout alone would’ve been enough to break Hux’s resolve—but he had better reasons. He ran his thumb over the arch of Ren’s cheekbones, enthralled.

“When it comes to us,” he said, “I’ll always be taking risks. I just want us to be aware of them before we say yes.”

“Are you saying yes?” Ren asked, breathless.

“To you, always.” He patted his cheek to balance out the cheesiness, and got to his feet. “Come on. Who knows how much time we have.”  

***

Ren helped him set up the sex swing on the bedroom door, a beautiful black leather padded seat with a set of handles and stirrups. A standard model. Portable. Responsible for some filthy, filthy experiences.

Hux retreated to the closet to change; Ren asked him to keep the gown on, but he _needed_ a better set of lingerie to go underneath, and also the little watch necklace. It surprised him how calmly he looked through his collection, as if they had all the time in the world, as if nothing else mattered. He heard Ren put on some music to prevent more accidents, some psychedelic rock vinyl with heavy basses. Ren hummed along to it, which was fucking endearing; there was a lot of movement, so Hux suspected he was getting ready as well, and at the same dreamy pace he did.

His choice was a powder blue lace bralette with matching knickers, deceivingly innocent if it wasn’t for the harness that came with the set. He adjusted the gown, and twirled for the mirror. Just a couple of hours ago he was in a bespoke suit, dealing in millions, the model employee of the fucking century, GQ-perfect and Forbes-ready—and now he was here, ready to destress.

He opened the sliding doors slowly, enjoying every second of the grand reveal. The bedroom was tainted pink—it was snowing, and the sky was glowing. Ren had lit candles, and retrieved the roses from the bathroom. He waited for Hux in a robe of his own, a classic black-gold Versace, and Hux was reminded of the daydream he shared with him—Tuscany, a holiday. Ren smiled at him, and his smile was warmer than the Mediterranean sun.

“Hi,” he said, extending his hands. Hux came to him like a bride, the trail of his gown sailing behind him. He put his hands in Ren’s, pressed his forehead to his.

“Hey darling,” he said. He wanted to add a hundred more names, whisper a litany, but he just couldn’t find the words.

“You look like a dream,” Ren told him, swaying to the music as he pulled him into an embrace. “Have I ever told you how much I dream of you? You must know, you keep visiting me when I’m asleep. You steal into my dreams. Even if I can’t see you I feel your presence. I carry you with me.” He lifted him up, and Hux went willingly, clinging on as Ren walked them to the door. “Other times,” he said, “you are very, _very_ present. I’m fucking your sweet little ass so hard I’m sure you can feel it when you wake, a phantom-pleasure and a phantom-pain. Do you ever…?”

“Do I ever wake up with a sore butt over the ocean just because you’ve dreamt of me?” Hux asked as Ren placed him on the seat. “No, I think that’s utter nonsense. That’s not _feasible_.”

“Could be though,” Ren said, adjusting the stirrups so they were under Hux’s bent knees. “We could make it real, if you were into that.”

“Into what?”

He could guess, but he wanted to hear it.

Ren looked at him directly, gaze burning. “I could wake you up with my cock. Fuck you awake.”

“Every morning?” Hux asked, his grip tightening around the handles. He pulled himself upright, back pressed to the hard wood of the door.

“Whenever you wanted me to,” Ren said. He stepped between Hux’s parted legs, and tugged at the gown’s belt. “I don’t ever want to wake up without you by my side. I don’t wanna—”

“Not much longer.”

“God, look at you. I’d do so much more, I’d fucking kill for you.” He kissed his collarbones, and the watch with the necklace settled between them. Hux sighed, content; he wanted to pull him closer, touch his hair, but he couldn’t let go of the handles. Ren made his way further down his chest, lapping at a nipple.

“Yes, get that bralette wet,” Hux whispered.

“You have the cutest little tits.”

“They’re so small, they’re virtually nonexistent.”

“You don’t like it when I use that word? Tits?”

“I don’t mind. Go ahead.”  

“I love that you’re soft here.” Ren squeezed his chest, his peaked nipples caught between his fingers. Ren gently pulled at them through the delicate fabric of the lace. Hux moaned in encouragement, so Ren dipped down, and lapped at them.

Somehow, it was much more intense than if they were lying down. They were so close, and Hux had to work for his balance, even when Ren nipped at a nipple and all he wanted was to collapse and tremble.

“Bloody hell—”

“I keep thinking about that man,” Ren said. “The one you told me about, that fucked your chest, your boyfriend.”

“Jesus, he wasn’t my boyfriend. You’re my first boyfriend in over a decade.”

“Yeah?” He pinched his nipple as if he was saying, _take_ that, _Nigel from accounting._

“Nobody else was stupid enough to care about me,” Hux said.

Ren hummed, unconvinced. His hand slipped lower. “I bet he was in love with you. Who the hell wouldn’t be? What was his name, anyway?”

“I won’t give you personal data shortly after you confessed entertaining the thought of murder, thank you. Besides, it shouldn’t matter.”

“Why not?” Ren pressed his palm to Hux’s cock, the tip of his fingers tapping at the taut chiffon over his perineum. Hux slid down the seat instinctively, chasing his touch, wanting more of it, wanting everything.

“You’re the only person I ever want to fuck,” he said, a bit out of breath. Ren kissed him as if it was some big love confession, like Hux just asked for his hand, and wasn’t that a nice thought. Ren found the opening at the back of his knickers, parted his cheeks and pushed his index finger right in until the first knuckle, quick and sharp, making Hux squirm and cry out. _Only you, only you._

Lube was produced—Ren had it in the pocket of his bathrobe, resourceful as ever. He slicked up his fingers with that detached expression that always got Hux hot and bothered. He was restless in the swing, writhing around as Kylo opened his robe. Hux knew he’d never tire of the sight of his cock, heavy and thick, the tip already glistening. They could be married for over a decade and he’d still get lightheaded just from being in its _presence_.

Ren gripped his hip to stabilise him, and just started fucking fingerbanging his poor hole at a rhythm that was almost viscous. Hux couldn’t even catch his breath; he just gaped, wordless.

“All right there?” Ren asked, and pressed a chaste kiss to his chin that was in ridiculous contrast with what his hand was doing. Hux nodded dazedly, and clenched around Ren’s rapidly moving fingers.

“The _angle_ ,” he rasped, earning a wicked grin from Ren. “Fuck, what’s gotten into you—”

“Missed you,” Ren said, and without a warning, curled his fingers, hitting Hux’s prostate. He kicked out with a sharp hiss; there were stars dancing around in his vision, a waltz of exploding supernovas. “Oh, your eyes rolled back, that was adorable,” Ren commented. Hux used the swing’s momentum to bear down _hard_ , making Ren laugh and gasp.

“Don’t get cocky on me,” he hissed into his face. Ren’s eyes were so dark they threatened to swallow him up. Hux pulled himself higher with the handles, and asked, “Does that look imply what I think it does?”

“I can be good if you discipline me.” Ren blinked a few times, possibly as an attempt to bat his lashes. His cock looked painfully hard now, balls tight and the flared head almost purple. Hux licked his lips while considering his next step.

“How do you want me to do this?”

“Just be yourself. Be bossy. Put me in my place, please.”

“All right. You’ve been naughty,” Hux said crisply, making Ren snort, who then cleared his throat. Hux scowled at him. “Shut up, you _were_. Fingering me like that. Have you no patience? Maybe I should teach you, Kylo. Come on. Stand still. Put your hands on the door. Are you ready to service me?”

“Whoa, you just went from zero to ten,” Ren said as he eagerly got into position.

“I asked you a _question_.”

“Fuck. Yes, I’m ready.”

“I want to use you like a toy,” Hux told him with as much authority as he could muster hanging in the air, ass open and wet. “You _cannot_ move. I’ll turn that cock into my dildo. You know why I ask this from you?”

“Why?” Ren whispered, awed, staring at Hux as if he was some kind of deity.

“Because I missed you too,” he said. His voice was breaking. It didn’t matter. They’d been planning this for so long, they were meant to experiment this week, explore new things, and they’d been robbed of so many opportunities—hour by hour, day by day.

“I’m here, Armitage, I’m here if you’ll have me.”

Hux sank down onto Ren’s cock, a slow descent, then he kept pushing back and pushing forward. Ren was motionless, as requested, but impossibly close, impossibly present. He filled Hux completely, and he couldn’t hear anything but his ragged breathing as he was sliding down his hot cock, taking him deeper than ever. Ren’s arms were trembling, but he kept still, watching Hux with hazy eyes, lips parted. He was making needy noises Hux had never heard him make before.

“You’re doing so good,” he told him. “Look down. Watch us.”

Ren obeyed, and took a sharp breath. Hux followed his gaze: it was really obscene—his knickers were soaked with lube, and Ren’s cock was particularly dripping with it. Seeing that monstrous dick slide into his tiny arse made Hux feel both fragile and immensely powerful—he had no idea how he managed to fit _all of that_ inside, even as he was doing it, even as he was fucking himself raw on it. He was slamming down hard, heart beating fast and his whole body engaged; he had a brief thought about aerobics lessons that made him huff, amused.

That brief laughter did something to Ren. His hand curled into fists, and he squeezed his eyes shut, head hanging low as he said, “Permission to move.”

“Permission granted.”

Ren shoved him to the door, effectively impaling him on his cock; there was a moment when they were just looking at each other—then Ren started mercilessly fucking him. Hux felt the stirrups slide down his legs, until they caught around his ankles; he supposed he was sinking down in a boneless heap, but he couldn’t focus on anything but Ren’s pulsing cock. A few hard thrusts, and he was pumping Hux full of come. Hux cried his name, in warning and in praise. Ren pulled out and dropped to his knees.

“Bloody hell,” Hux panted. He was—weightless, head swimming, cock aching for release and his legs up in the air, spread like _butter_ , and if it wasn’t enough, Ren grabbed his cheeks, parting them. He started eating up his come, messy and happy, nose digging into the sensitive flesh. Hux could swear he felt him grin, fucking proud of himself, probably, proud of what’d he made of Hux—and he wasn’t even finished yet.

He shoved his fingers inside. They were back where they started. Ren showed that he had learnt his lesson: every touch was teasing and soft now.

“You little shit,” Hux whined. Ren’s tongue lapped at the stretched out rim around his fingers as he caressed Hux’s prostate, light as air. Hux whimpered again.

“Tell me what to do,” Ren whispered wetly. “I’ll do anything.”

“Just— _harder,_ ” Hux hissed. It was impossible to tell whether it was a plea or an order. He felt tears in his eyes; that was a first, at least. Ren twisted his fingers, ignoring Hux’s cock straining the knickers in favour of that sweet spot. He screwed in deeper, tongue hot on the rim.

Hux came without warning. It hit him and left him gasping for air, underwear utterly ruined. Ren said something in a calming tone. Hux closed his thighs around his head, making him laugh.

“Easy, don’t smother me, babe.”

Hux couldn’t speak. He was looking at the man of his dreams on his knees for him. What could he say?

( _Kylo Ren, will you marry me_?)

***

They became more cautious by the time they got to the bathroom. They took a perfunctory shower before daring to dip into the tub and light a cigarette, conscious that Rey could be home any minute. Hux didn’t want a scene, and he was used to fading into the background, living like a shadow in his own home. With Brendol gone, he never thought he’d be walking on eggshells ever again, but he found himself picking up old habits—the soft steps, the intent listening. It wasn’t like Rey was going to hurt him. Still: this post-coital peace was far too easy to break, and reality could come knocking any minute.

Except it didn’t.

He and Ren soaked in the tub until the pink foam dispersed and the water had gone cold, and they were still blissfully alone. They brushed their teeth, went through their evening routine, Hux put on his glasses: not a stir. They lingered for as long as they could: the bathroom felt like a safehouse, and setting foot in the living room was like braving a battlefield. No sign of raging cousins.

“We would’ve heard her sneak in,” Ren said. The banana bread was still in place, neglected and untouched like all of Rey’s stuff: her charger and bobby pins, the duffel bag with her gym equipment, her clothes on a makeshift rack. “I bet she’s still walking around the block, waiting for us to finish.”

“But it’s been more than an hour,” Hux argued. “She knows men don’t take that long, right?”

Ren made a face. “I hope she doesn’t.”

“She’s without a beanie,” Hux said, scratching his palms nervously. He looked at the darkening landscape beyond the glass walls: it was snowing proper now. “She’ll catch a cold, and it’s going to be our fault. She won’t show up tomorrow. Snoke will know something is off.”

Ren walked up to him and put a more or less reassuring hand on the small of his back. Hux leant into his touch; he needed all the comfort he could get.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ren said. “I know her. I did raise her. I know her better than she knows herself, I live inside her head. She’s just grossed out and moping, upset that her plan backfired. All I gotta do is give her a call and apologise.” He patted Hux’s butt and went to the coffee table to fetch his phone. The contacts pulled up, he put it to his ears with a wink. “I’ll sound very devastated. I’ll incorporate the part about the beanie, I think. We’re worried she’ll freeze to death, etc.”

An Ariana Grande song started playing, screaming about light and darkness at a startingly loud volume. Rey had left her mobile in the foyer, atop her fingerless gloves.

“Jesus Christ,” Hux said. “She _will_ freeze to death.”

Kylo chuckled as he pocketed his phone. “And Hosnian Prime cannot even treat her for hypothermia, imagine that. Her blood is on your hands. Her lung mucus, anyway.”

“It’s not funny,” Hux said miserably. “We have a teen on the loose, without her _phone_. She will _perish_.”

“She will be fine,” Ren said without much conviction.

Hux hugged himself and turned to the glass again, as if he could hope to spot Rey on the New York horizon. He was rubbing his arms, although he wasn’t cold. Someone else was. “If we were better people, we would put on our damn coats and set out to find her. Ask around, peek into cheap bars.”

“Yeah, if she was a better person, she wouldn’t be MIA.”

“I used to do it when Papa—when he had a rough night. I’d just be...gone.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, I’m so sorry, babe. It’s not the same, though.”

Hux let out a sigh. He was exhausted, and excited about sleeping with his favourite person in the world. He deserved a break. He deserved a night in.  

“She’s probably with friends,” he muttered as if he was trying to convince his own mirror image. “Complaining about how horrible we are for wanting some privacy. Does she have friends around here?”

“I have no idea. She stopped telling me stuff like that I don’t know, a while ago.”

Hux lifted his gaze to find Ren’s reflection. All he could make out was a dark silhouette with hunched shoulders, defensive and pissed, but also: afraid.

“We’ll call 911 if she doesn’t turn up in twenty-four hours,” Hux said. “Until then, we just have to figure out what to tell Snoke. We don’t even have to be extremely convincing. It might tip him off, but it has all been set into motion, and—”

“But still no report on Vodran, and—”

“I know, but—listen, at this point it’s out of our control.”  It should’ve sounded terrifying, but Hux found an odd solace in it. He reached out for Ren, and said softly, “Come to bed, Mr. Chairman.”

Ren gave him a tired half-smile, laced their fingers and kissed Hux’s knuckles. “It should be you,” he whispered. “I still think that.”

“It’s not like we’ll be crowning an emperor. Five years at most, and then it’s my turn.”

Ren pressed his lips to his index finger, as if he was swearing allegiance, kissing the ring of a ruler.

They changed the sheets, and to calm his conscience, Hux opened the couch and placed some pillows and a duvet there. He told himself Rey would come back in the dead of the night, bone-tired, and would appreciate finding a bed ready for her.

For all the anxiety her absence triggered in him, part of him was immensely relieved that he could finally go to sleep in Ren’s arms without having to explain himself, without suspicion or judgement. Ren was spooning him, hand stroking his belly, lips pressed to his neck. Hux wanted to spend every night like this, forever. He was so close to it, anticipation kept him awake, and he was left grinding his teeth while Ren was fast asleep, snoring contently.

***

Although Hux had hardly slept more than three hours, he still welcomed Ren’s preferred method to wake him up: being rolled to his stomach, a question whispered into his ear, the wetness of spit, thighs slick as Ren fucked him Oxford-style while he humped the mattress; no rush, no sounds—the susurration of snow, and morning lights, blue and yellow.  

Then: bathroom, kitchen, and the complete absence of Rey. Hux was resigned, and Ren made no mention of it either. They made breakfast, ignoring the banana bread as well as the bucket of chicken wings and bottles of sweet tea Rey hoarded in the fridge. Still, Hux was dressed to the nines, not quite daring to lounge in lingerie, as if it had the power to inconveniently summon her. The mood was decidedly solemn, but he and Ren still parted with a lingering kiss with a side of modest groping. Hux was the first to come, and the first to leave.

His expectations mounted as he watched the city go past him from a taxi’s window. New York was fleeting like a dream. He and Ren had planned this day for over a month now; he wouldn’t let anything ruin their prospects. _Suppose it fell through_ , he told himself, and the first thing he pictured was he and Ren in a dirty little rathole, eating greasy leftovers while wearing _jeans_ and faded T-shirts, but still and forever: profoundly in love. He could live like that, he could endure far worse than poverty to have Ren with him—he often entertained the thought of being in jail together—but Ren deserved better, the best, and Hux was going to give it to him, whatever it took

Even if it meant giving up his own chances.

Sloane was going to give him hell, but let her.

He was nursing the tea Ren made him, swirling it around in the porcelain travel mug through the taxi ride. By the time he reached the First Order Tower the drink was tepid, but he still drank it. The meeting that’d change his life forever was scheduled for eleven. All he had to do until then was to lay low and not throw up. He chased the bitter aftertaste with his tongue, taking the front steps by two, and flipped out his phone as soon as he was through the security gates. He contemplated texting Ren, _safely arrived,_ just to say something, and as if destiny saw what he was up to, a door slid open, and he caught sight of Rey.

Hux lowered the phone, mouth open. She looked like as if nothing had fucking happened. Her clothes were wrinkled, but appropriate. She was well-rested, a tablet at hand, humming to herself as she walked to the lift. She didn’t acknowledge Hux until the last moment, when she met his gaze, irritated.

“Going up or down, Mr. Hux?”

“Up,” he croaked, and hurried to her. She pulled back, putting some distance between them, but as the steel doors closed, her face softened.

“Give me a cigarette.”

“You don’t smoke,” Hux said, already looking through his deer hide briefcase.

“I doubt anyone was observant enough to notice that. Ta’.” Rey took the Sobranie from Hux, frowning at the gold filter and lilac paper in distaste, then she put it in her breast pocket. “Meet me on the twenty-first floor balcony at ten. Bring Ben.” The lift pulled to a halt, and she attempted to step out; Hux got hold of her shoulder.

“Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick.”

She smiled at him bitterly. “Yeah, I can imagine.” With that, she slipped free.

***

Own nr: Eagle in the nest.

*aubergine*: aw you watching nature documentaries @ work, you little rebel?

Own nr: No, I met Rey.

Own nr: This is code for me meeting Rey.

*aubergine*: she’s there???????

*aubergine*:  oh shit okay that’s it I’m skipping leg day gonna be in the office in 30

*aubergine*: but like

Own nr: We only talked briefly, she seems okay

*aubergine*: why does she get to be an eagle she’s a shrike at best

*aubergine*: small but deadly  
  
Own nr: She reminds me of an ostrich, but that’s beside the point  
  
*aubergine*: an ostrich

Own nr: We should be wary of her, I cannot tell what she’s up to  
  
*aubergine*: an ostrich though  
  
Own nr: 1) Can kick your ass  
  
*aubergine*: yeah?  
  
Own nr: That’s it.  
  
*aubergine*: ok so the ostrich is in the nest  
  
Own nr: We’re meeting her at 10, 21st floor balcony, she may or may not be smoking

*aubergine*: she shouldn’t she’s an endangered species  
  
Own nr: I don’t think ostriches are endangered, they breed well in captivity  
  
*aubergine*: omg what are you trying to say  
  
Own nr: Nothing?

*aubergine*: no seriously what happened to her  
  
Own nr: No code, darling, I merely stated a fact about ostriches.

Own nr: Did you know they eat gravel to grind their food, and carry about one kilogram of stones in their stomach?  
  
*aubergine*: ok that checks out that sounds like Rey 

***

Ren, of course, couldn’t help but make a dramatic entrance, and Hux fell for it like it was the first time. His cigarette was already lit as he stepped on the balcony, like he couldn’t care less whether fire alarms were triggered in his wake, his hair in a partial French braid, and his shiny leather gloves looked _obscene_. Hux almost choked on the smoke of his cigarette. Rey was standing a few feet away from him, so that anybody watching would think it was an accident that they all flocked here for nicotine. As far as Hux could tell, only the surrounding skyscrapers bore witness. 

“Hey guys,” Ren greeted them, pulling Hux in a half-hug and nuzzling his sideburns. He was in high spirits, but Hux could tell he was overplaying it—the twitch of his mouth betrayed him. Hux pressed a kiss to his ear to placate him. Ren hummed it response.

“I have something for you,” Rey said. She was yet to light her cigarette, which she held pinched tightly between three fingers, like a sailor would.

“And where have you _been_?” Ren asked cheerfully, head tilted. “Sleeping on the streets again?”

“No.”

“No? A park, then.”

“Nah.”

“Jesus Christ, what did I tell you about public transport?”

“I’ve had the best naps of my life on the subway, thank you.”

“She smells of Old Spice,” Hux chimed in, and looking at Rey mouthed, _sorry_.

 _Tattletale,_ Rey mouthed back, but her eyes were gleaming.

“Oh shit,” Ren said. “Who is he?”

“Whoever he is, tell him that Le Labo makes excellent shower gels, and he better start using them,” Hux said.  

Rey pretended to take a drag from her unlit cigarette. “Anyway. I had some time to cool down and think.”

“Glad to hear it, you needed that,” Ren muttered as he leant against the railing, keeping his arm wrapped around Hux’s hips. His open greatcoat was hiding it.

“Don’t ruin it.” Rey made a show of patting the rod, as if she expected ashes to fall down. “I told myself that I shouldn’t half-ass it. I either trust you fully, or not at all.”

“And?” Ren asked. He exhaled sharply, the smoke obscuring his features for a moment. “Can I be trusted?”

Rey reached out to him. “I have no other choice, so don’t screw it up. You’re my only hope.”

Ren placed his hand in hers, and squeezed. “I won’t let you down. Not this time.”

“I meant to ask for a lighter,” Rey said, staring down at their hands. Ren only held on tighter.

“Too late. It’s officially an emotional moment now.”

“Can I ruin it?” Hux volunteered, and offered a light to Rey. She leant over it, smiling. She wasn’t letting go of Ren.  

“I hope everybody practiced their singing and dancing,” Ren said, “because I feel like we’re due to a coordinated choreography to celebrate.”

“Don’t try me, I slay _Hamilton_.” Rey made him pull up his hand, setting them up for arm wrestling.

“I can’t believe you’ve been Burr all along and just fucking decked Hamilton.”

“Yeah, you gotta defeat me in a mighty duel if you want my secrets.”

“I thought we were best friends forever,” Ren complained. He put the cigarette between his lips and let go of Hux’s waist to take hold of the railing.

Hux knew better than to expect the match to be fair, or to be entirely in good humour. Rey’s cheeks rounded as she sucked in a painful hiss of air, and Ren furrowed his brows in answer, concentrating on besting her. Hux briefly wondered how would they explain this scene if somebody happened to join them on the balcony, but then he just decided to enjoy the show with a building cheerleader’s anxiety. He loved seeing Ren like this—focused and slightly pissed, still putting on a good face. His confidence had always been attractive, but Hux really started to cherish the small moments of openness—especially since no-one else could tell how Ren really felt but him. It made him special, even if he was only an expert of his boyfriend’s moods. He could tell that Ren was going to win by a shift in his eyes, gold-bright in the morning sun, a glimmer of realisation and disappointment.

“You let me win,” he grunted.

“As a gesture of good faith,” Rey said, pulling back her hand. “Also, I enjoy having the moral high ground.” She searched for something in her pockets, and Ren used the opportunity to sneak his arm back around Hux’s torso. “Here. A token of my good will. You might want to burn it.”

Ren frowned at the folded paper handed to him. Before he could inspect it properly, Rey started walking away, taking the cigarette with her. She raised it in silent greeting as Hux and Ren watched her leave, heels clicking on concrete.

“Dare I ask what is it?” Hux muttered, keeping his eyes on her.

“From what I can tell, a list of the shareholder’s secret sympathies. Yep. Well, fuck.”

“What?”

Ren looked up from the note. His eyes were bright and round. “We’re good to go. Baby, we’re actually doing it. We’re ending Snoke, you and me.”

***

Everybody took their places, like chess-figures on the board. Snoke sat high on his throne of  a chair, the shareholders were leafing through the agenda Rey handed out with a cheery smile, and Ren was making small talk with the spokesperson of Vodran. Mitaka, who was there to represent his wife, was shooting them nervous glances. Hux hoped he wouldn’t die of nerves before the meeting began.

He registered the slow tickling of the clock like a series of hits, hammering in a simple phrase, _this is happening_. Snoke called for order, neglected to go through the timetable in his usual arrogant manner, and asked for the reports of the executive directors.

Hux rose to speak. He was calm and collected as he greeted everybody, making polite eye-contact like Snoke never fucking would, and began his report on how his team had dealt with the security breach. He soaked up the attention, noticing Ren’s silent apprehension. They _needed_ to wing this. Hux wished he could just keep his eyes on Ren’s face, say his little speech like he did countless times over Skype.

“There is a new development,” he said, “that is sensitive in nature, but which I must share with the board in good faith.”

He felt Snoke’s icy gaze on him. Could he suspect something, or was he never that clever? Had it always been just hot air? He could remember the first time he’d met him—kept returning to the memory obsessively, even now as he watched Snoke’s frown deepen. He must’ve been eleven, or ten. Snoke had made a rare house call for Brendol. A pale man in a suit Hux thought he could never afford, a boxy American cut that made his skeletal figure look bigger, looming above him as he had hurried to clean away his textbooks.

Brendol had been furious, _idiot boy, I told you we’d have a guest over, what is your shit doing here,_ and he had been swallowing back tears, _you never told me, if you had I would’ve vanished_. He had dropped a book and flinched. _Butterfingers_ , Brendol had grunted—it wasn’t a bad word, it shouldn’t have hurt, but he had hated when Brendol called him that, because it was something he couldn’t help—he’d read that motor skills weren’t fully developed at his age.

He’d read a lot.

The library was a sanctuary.

He had disliked books for kids though. They were mostly about orphans—he’d always envied them.

Snoke had lifted up the book that had slipped from his hands.

“ _How to Win Friends and Influence People_ ,” he had read the title, and peered at Hux with a bemused look. “Do you plan to be popular?”

“Successful,” Hux had replied. He had wanted to explain that he enjoyed entrepreneurial books, and the nice lady at the library had told him that this was a salesman’s bible from the thirties, and cautioned him about the heavy language, but he liked learning new words, he liked learning in general, and—nobody gave a shit about that, he wasn’t supposed to talk unless prompted.

“It’s a good book,” Snoke had said, handing it back. “Excellent choice. See that you read it cover to cover, and take the advice at heart. Who knows? Smart boy like you, in a couple of years you might find yourself working for me.” He had given him a slow smile—Hux had never liked smiles, they put him on edge—but _praise_ , he craved.

For years, that encounter had motivated him to study harder, be better, be the best. He had a lot to thank Snoke for. He’d directly financed his enrollment at Eton.

But he never had anything to say about the way Brendol treated him.

That was all Sloane.

“We have managed to track down the Resistance hacker,” Hux said. “Let us call him D.J. for now.” He gave a quick glance to Rey. _Yes. We got Finn’s guy. We got everything_. She looked very pale. “With Mr. D.J.'s help, we were able to analyze the Resistance's strategy, and could confirm that the sole focus of their attention was Mr. Snoke.”

That must've been Organa's doing. The first attack, the stealing of the pendrive, had been orchestrated by Holdo—Dameron wasn't supposed to let Organa know. He had. Apparently, Organa had put Holdo on the case personally, fearing that she herself would be biased.

She had proven to be just that.

Facing her son’s crimes couldn’t have been easy. On the second breach, when they lost the pendrive but broke into SKB with the help of D.J., no evidence was collected on Ren. The fact that Hux’s dealing were likewise ignored must’ve been Amidala’s mercy. There was a silent agreement: we’ll take down the Order, but won’t let you be buried under the ruins.

Hux didn’t care, and neither did Ren. The Order was their heritage. It would forever stand. Organa, Amidala, Skywalker—nobody had leverage. D.J. had seen to that.

“What they discovered,” Hux said, “was deeply troubling, not to mention potentially catastrophic for the First Order. While crisis has been averted for the moment, in the interest for the future I ask the board to vote on sending Mr. Snoke into retirement, and thus reduce the risk of negative exposure. Moreover, he should be replaced with a chairman who can effectively take down the Resistance and in the recent weeks has proved his skills in action planning and risk management, is entirely capable, and above all, worthy of trust. That person is Mr. Ren.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Snoke cried as Ren rose to speak. He ignored him; he had all eyes on him. Everybody in the room respected Hux, and was scared shitless of Ren. They were young, skilled, passionate, convincing; Snoke kept on yelling—a raging fool, while Ren stood tall, his low voice droning out the hissed curses as he calmly listed the charges against Snoke, one by one, point by point, with some saucy details thrown in—thanks to some emails Rey had unearthed.

She was standing behind Snoke’s chair, motionless, far removed from the stir in the room. It looked like she couldn’t move, even if she wanted to. She had a First Order patch pinned to her lapel, and the Order would live on.

***

There was a painting in the _Musée Anne de Beaujeu_ Hux saw in his early twenties, the first time he could afford a holiday on his own. Its title roughly translated to _Truth Coming from the Well to Shame Mankind_ ; the internet recently re-discovered it, although for reasons Hux couldn’t quite grasp, something to do with memes. Rey looked like the figure on the painting, screaming in reproach and pain. She was hitting Ren’s chest, the heavy punches coming down like stones.

“You told me you were starting anew, you promised, you said you would let the Order burn, you said you were going to set it on fire!”

All Hux could do was watch. The conference room was empty now. Decisions had been made. It was finished.

“Liar!” Rey cried with tears of rage blinding her. Ren caught her fists, held them in his grip. She buried her face into his chest, shaking, and kept hiccupping that one word, _liar, liar_.

“I’m sorry,” Ren said as he enveloped her in a tight hug, chin resting atop her head as he rocked her. “I’m sorry kid, I’m so sorry.”  

There was something to be said about blood here, and water; about Vader—the impossibility of change, until it was too late anyway. Ren had told Hux once what it felt like to live beyond the event horizon, to know nothing could pull him back to his past.

 _I’d rather be cruel,_ he had said, _selfish and ruthless than be something I am not. You know that, right? You’re like me. You’re me. We’re the same._

 _So what does it matter,_ Hux asked, _which one of us takes his place?_

***

“You handed it over like a piece of cake,” Sloane said over the phone.

“A cake he helped me bake,” Hux hastened to clarify. He was slumped against Ren in the backseat of the Phantom, the chauffeur driving them away from First Order Tower after a long day. They could go anywhere.

They were free.

“You worked to be chairman your whole life,” Sloane said. They both knew Hux didn’t need a reminder. She didn’t even sound angry, or disappointed, just endlessly tired. There’d be time for rest. There’d be time for everything now.

“I’ll keep working.”

***

The evening found he and Ren in the rooftop bar of Ophelia, nursing cocktails in blood-red tulip glasses under soaring cathedral windows. Ren was licking sugar from Hux's lips; they were left alone on their velvet couch, and the sultry music muffled Hux’s small gasps of pleasure—he’d never felt quite so decadent, quite like himself. He dipped his fingers into his champagne-infused drink, brought it to Ren’s mouth. He wanted him to taste of victory. Ren just started sucking on the digits when Hux’s phone on the table started buzzing. They looked at it a bit confused—Hux had just dropped it there with all his personal belongings, to get his hands on Ren as soon as possible, and had quite forgotten it was there.

The display read Amidala, Padmé.

“I might want to ignore that,” Hux said.

“Yeah. Let’s.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warnings** : This chapter gets a bit more intense as Hux decides to try out Ren’s _D/s inspired fantasy_ : this only involves verbal dominance while topping from the bottom. No restraints are used, but Ren is not allowed to move. The scene might be disturbing because they pretty much just jump right into it without warning—be advised that it happens when they set a sex swing up, and that there’s been off-screen negotiation via texts (the fic only hints at it).  
> As for the usual warnings: rough sex / second hand awkwardness / Hux shows no empathy to a story involving human trafficking / getting caught in a sexual act (no one is left scarred by the event) / dysfunctional family dynamics between Ren and Rey, including verbal abuse, threats, gaslighting, emotional manipulation; Hux is complicit / side-ships include a vague hint at an undefined Rey/Finn(/Poe) setup / flashback to Hux’s childhood, showcasing verbal abuse and gaslighting  
> [Plot details: Rey and Hux share a bed, but no fanfic rules apply: they are not interested in each other, and neither of them feels threatened / Rey is strategically cockblocking Ren and Hux, fearing that they might be conspiring when left alone / sex negativity - Rey and Ren are mutually grossed out by evidence of their sibling being sexually active]
> 
> A million thanks to bioticnerfherder for betaing, chrisdoorf for the support, and to all readers - your enthusiasm for the story helped me to finally update. 
> 
> There's an epilogue-type chapter left that'll (hopefully) wrap everything up, and then the fic is completed!
> 
> The title is from [Any Other World](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JRvviNXmWY) by Mika, a Big Hux Mood  
>   
> find me on [tumblr ](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/)// there's a[ moodboard](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/177312734406/the-suit-porn-au-updated-chapter-9-take-a-bow) for the chapter


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